"Pollyanna, Pollyanna! What are you doing?" she cried.
Pollyanna chuckled.
"That's just what I don't want you to know, Aunt Polly, and I was
afraid you WOULD peek, so I tied on the handkerchief. Now sit
still. It won't take but just a minute, then I'll let you see."
"But, Pollyanna," began Miss Polly, struggling blindly to her
feet, "you must take this off! You--child, child! what ARE you
doing?" she gasped, as she felt a soft something slipped about
her shoulders.
Pollyanna only chuckled the more gleefully. With trembling
fingers she was draping about her aunt's shoulders the fleecy
folds of a beautiful lace shawl, yellowed from long years of
packing away, and fragrant with lavender. Pollyanna had found the
shawl the week before when Nancy had been regulating the attic;
and it had occurred to her to-day that there was no reason why
her aunt, as well as Mrs. White of her Western home, should not
be "dressed up."
Her task completed, Pollyanna surveyed her work with eyes that
approved, but that saw yet one touch wanting.
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