If anything or anybody can
take the grouch out of Pendleton this afternoon, she can. That's
why I sent her in."
"Who is she?"
For one brief moment the doctor hesitated.
"She's the niece of one of our best known residents. Her name is
Pollyanna Whittier. I--I don't happen to enjoy a very extensive
personal acquaintance with the little lady as yet; but lots of my
patients do--I'm thankful to say!"
The nurse smiled.
"Indeed! And what are the special ingredients of this
wonder-working--tonic of hers?"
The doctor shook his head.
"I don't know. As near as I can find out it is an overwhelming,
unquenchable gladness for everything that has happened or is
going to happen. At any rate, her quaint speeches are constantly
being repeated to me, and, as near as I can make out, 'just being
glad' is the tenor of most of them. All is," he added, with
another whimsical smile, as he stepped out on to the porch, "I
wish I could prescribe her--and buy her--as I would a box of
pills;--though if there gets to be many of her in the world, you
and I might as well go to ribbon-selling and ditch-digging for
all the money we'd get out of nursing and doctoring," he laughed,
picking up the reins and stepping into the gig.
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