Pollyanna caught her breath. In spite of her feeling of haste,
she paused a moment and looked fearfully through the vestibule to
the wide, sombre hall beyond, her thoughts in a whirl. This was
John Pendleton's house; the house of mystery; the house into
which no one but its master entered; the house which sheltered,
somewhere--a skeleton. Yet she, Pollyanna, was expected to enter
alone these fearsome rooms, and telephone the doctor that the
master of the house lay now--
With a little cry Pollyanna, looking neither to the right nor the
left, fairly ran through the hall to the door at the end and
opened it.
The room was large, and sombre with dark woods and hangings like
the hall; but through the west window the sun threw a long shaft
of gold across the floor, gleamed dully on the tarnished brass
andirons in the fireplace, and touched the nickel of the
telephone on the great desk in the middle of the room. It was
toward this desk that Pollyanna hurriedly tiptoed.
The telephone card was not on its hook; it was on the floor.
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