"There, there, Pollyanna, never mind about that now. Don't let
other people's troubles worry your little head. Suppose you run
back now to Mrs. Snow. I've written down the name of the
medicine, and the directions how she is to take it. Was there
anything else?"
Pollyanna shook her head.
"No, Sir; thank you, Sir," she murmured soberly, as she turned
toward the door. From the little hallway she called back, her
face suddenly alight: "Anyhow, I'm glad 'twasn't my mother's
hand and heart that you wanted and couldn't get, Dr. Chilton.
Good-by!"
It was on the last day of October that the accident occurred.
Pollyanna, hurrying home from school, crossed the road at an
apparently safe distance in front of a swiftly approaching motor
car.
Just what happened, no one could seem to tell afterward. Neither
was there any one found who could tell why it happened or who was
to blame that it did happen. Pollyanna, however, at five o'clock,
was borne, limp and unconscious, into the little room that was so
dear to her.
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