“Yes,” he said, trying to make his voice sound concerned enough for sympathy, and not eager enough for curiosity. In a moment he saw that he need not have worried, however: the doctor was quite too intent on his errand to notice how that errand was received.

  “Pendleton, I want to see that child. I want to make an examination. I MUST make an examination.”

  “Well—can’t you?”

  “CAN’T I! Pendleton, you know very well I haven’t been inside that door for more than fifteen years. You don’t know—but I will tell you—that the mistress of that house told me that the NEXT time she ASKED me to enter it, I might take it that she was begging my pardon, and that all would be as before—which meant that she’d marry me. Perhaps you see her summoning me now—but I don’t!”

  “But couldn’t you go—without a summons?”

  The doctor frowned.

  “Well, hardly. I have some pride, you know.”

  “But if you’re so anxious—couldn’t you swallow your pride and forget the quarrel—”

  “Forget the quarrel!” interrupted the doctor, savagely. “I’m not talking of that kind of pride. So far as THAT is concerned, I’d go from here there on my knees—or on my head—if that would do any good. It’s PROFESSIONAL pride I’m talking about. It’s a case of sickness, and I’m a doctor. I can’t butt in and say, ‘Here, take me!’can I?”

  “Chilton, what was the quarrel?” demanded Pendleton.

  The doctor made an impatient gesture, and got to his feet.

  “What was it? What’s any lovers’ quarrel after it’s over?” he snarled, pacing the room angrily. “A silly wrangle over the size of the moon or the depth of a river, maybe—it might as well be, so far as its having any real significance compared to the years of misery that follow them! Never mind the quarrel! So far as I am concerned, I am willing to say there was no quarrel. Pendleton, I must see that child. It may mean life or death. It will mean—I honestly believe—nine chances out of ten that Pollyanna Whittier will walk again!”

  The words were spoken clearly, impressively; and they were spoken just as the one who uttered them had almost reached the open window near John Pendleton’s chair. Thus it happened that very distinctly they reached the ears of a small boy kneeling beneath the window on the ground outside.

  Jimmy Bean, at his Saturday morning task of pulling up the first little green weeds of the flowerbeds, sat up with ears and eyes wide open.

  “Walk! Pollyanna!” John Pendleton was saying. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean that from what I can hear and learn—a mile from her bedside—that her case is very much like one that a college friend of mine has just helped. For years he’s been making this sort of thing a special study. I’ve kept in touch with him, and studied, too, in a way. And from what I hear—but I want to SEE the girl!”

  John Pendleton came erect in his chair.

  “You must see her, man! Couldn’t you—say, through Dr. Warren?”

  The other shook his head.

  “I’m afraid not. Warren has been very decent, though. He told me himself that he suggested consultation with me at the first, but—Miss Harrington said no so decisively that he didn’t dare venture it again, even though he knew of my desire to see the child. Lately, some of his best patients have come over to me—so of course that ties my hands still more effectually. But, Pendleton, I’ve got to see that child! Think of what it may mean to her—if I do!”

  “Yes, and think of what it will mean—if you don’t!” retorted Pendleton.

  “But how can I—without a direct request from her aunt?—which I’ll never get!”

  “She must be made to ask you!”

  “How?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “No, I guess you don’t—nor anybody else. She’s too proud and too angry to ask me—after what she said years ago it would mean if she did ask me. But when I think of that child, doomed to lifelong misery, and when I think that maybe in my hands lies a chance of escape, but for that confounded nonsense we call pride and professional etiquette, I—” He did not finish his sentence, but with his hands thrust deep into his pockets, he turned and began to tramp up and down the room again, angrily.

  “But if she could be made to see—to understand,” urged John Pendleton.

  “Yes; and who’s going to do it?” demanded the doctor, with a savage turn.

  “I don’t know, I don’t know,” groaned the other, miserably.

  Outside the window Jimmy Bean stirred suddenly. Up to now he had scarcely breathed, so intently had he listened to every word.

  “Well, by Jinks, I know!” he whispered, exultingly. “I’M a-goin’ ter do it!” And forthwith he rose to his feet, crept stealthily around the corner of the house, and ran with all his might down Pendleton Hill.

  CHAPTER XXX. JIMMY TAKES THE HELM

  “It’s Jimmy Bean. He wants ter see ye, ma’am,” announced Nancy in the doorway.

  “Me?” rejoined Miss Polly, plainly surprised. “Are you sure he did not mean Miss Pollyanna? He may see her a few minutes to-day, if he likes.”

  “Yes’m. I told him. But he said it was you he wanted.”

  “Very well, I’ll come down.” And Miss Polly arose from her chair a little wearily.

  In the sitting room she found waiting for her a round-eyed, flushed-faced boy, who began to speak at once.

  “Ma’am, I s’pose it’s dreadful—what I’m doin’, an’ what I’m sayin’; but I can’t help it. It’s for Pollyanna, and I’d walk over hot coals for her, or face you, or—or anythin’ like that, any time. An’ I think you would, too, if you thought there was a chance for her ter walk again. An’ so that’s why I come ter tell ye that as long as it’s only pride an’ et—et-somethin’ that’s keepin’ Pollyanna from walkin’, why I knew you WOULD ask Dr. Chilton here if you understood—”

  “Wh-at?” interrupted Miss Polly, the look of stupefaction on her face changing to one of angry indignation.

  Jimmy sighed despairingly.

  “There, I didn’t mean ter make ye mad. That’s why I begun by tellin’ ye about her walkin’ again. I thought you’d listen ter that.”

  “Jimmy, what are you talking about?”

  Jimmy sighed again.

  “That’s what I’m tryin’ ter tell ye.”

  “Well, then tell me. But begin at the beginning, and be sure I understand each thing as you go. Don’t plunge into the middle of it as you did before—and mix everything all up!”

  Jimmy wet his lips determinedly.

  “Well, ter begin with, Dr. Chilton come ter see Mr. Pendleton, an’ they talked in the library. Do you understand that?”

  “Yes, Jimmy.” Miss Polly’s voice was rather faint.

  “Well, the window was open, and I was weedin’ the flower-bed under it; an’ I heard ‘em talk.”

  “Oh, Jimmy! LISTENING?”

  “‘Twa’n’t about me, an’ ‘twa’n’t sneak listenin’,” bridled Jimmy. “And I’m glad I listened. You will be when I tell ye. Why, it may make Pollyanna—walk!”

  “Jimmy, what do you mean?” Miss Polly was leaning forward eagerly.

  “There, I told ye so,” nodded Jimmy, contentedly. “Well, Dr. Chilton knows some doctor somewhere that can cure Pollyanna, he thinks—make her walk, ye know; but he can’t tell sure till he SEES her. And he wants ter see her somethin’ awful, but he told Mr. Pendleton that you wouldn’t let him.”

  Miss Polly’s face turned very red.

  “But, Jimmy, I—I can’t—I couldn’t! That is, I didn’t know!” Miss Polly was twisting her fingers together helplessly.

  “Yes, an’ that’s what I come ter tell ye, so you WOULD know,” asserted Jimmy, eagerly. “They said that for some reason—I didn’t rightly catch what—you wouldn’t let Dr. Chilton come, an’ you told Dr. Warren so; an’ Dr. Chilton couldn’t come himself, without you asked him, on account of pride an’ professional et—et—well, et-somethin anyway. An’ they was wishin’ somebody could make you understand, only they didn’t know who could; an’ I was outside the winder, an’ I says ter myself right away, ‘By Jinks, I’ll do it!’ An’ I come—an’ have I made ye understand?”

  “Yes; but, Jimmy, about that doctor,” implored Miss Polly, feverishly. “Who was he? What did he do? Are they SURE he could make Pollyanna walk?”

  “I don’t know who he was. They didn’t say. Dr. Chilton knows him, an’ he’s just cured somebody just like her, Dr. Chilton thinks. Anyhow, they didn’t seem ter be doin’ no worryin’ about HIM. ‘Twas YOU they was worryin’ about, ‘cause you wouldn’t let Dr. Chilton see her. An’ say—you will let him come, won’t you?—now you understand?”

  Miss Polly turned her head from side to side. Her breath was coming in little uneven, rapid gasps. Jimmy, watching her with anxious eyes, thought she was going to cry. But she did not cry. After a minute she said brokenly:

  “Yes—I’ll let—Dr. Chilton—see her. Now run home, Jimmy—quick! I’ve got to speak to Dr. Warren. He’s up-stairs now. I saw him drive in a few minutes ago.”

  A little later Dr. Warren was surprised to meet an agitated, flushed-faced Miss Polly in the hall. He was still more surprised to hear the lady say, a little breathlessly:

  “Dr. Warren, you asked me once to allow Dr. Chilton to be called in consultation, and—I refused. Since then I have reconsidered. I very much desire that you SHOULD call in Dr. Chilton. Will you not ask him at once—please? Thank you.”

  CHAPTER XXXI. A NEW UNCLE

  The next time Dr. Warren entered the chamber where Pollyanna lay watching the dancing shimmer of color on the ceiling, a tall, broad-shouldered man followed close behind him.

  “Dr. Chilton!—oh, Dr. Chilton, how glad I am to see YOU!” cried Pollyanna. And at the joyous rapture of the voice, more than one pair of eyes in the room brimmed hot with sudden tears. “But, of course, if Aunt Polly doesn’t want—”

  “It is all right, my dear; don’t worry,” soothed Miss Polly, agitatedly, hurrying forward. “I have told Dr. Chilton that—that I want him to look you over—with Dr. Warren, this morning.”

  “Oh, then you asked him to come,” murmured Pollyanna, contentedly.

  “Yes, dear, I asked him. That is—” But it was too late. The adoring happiness that had leaped to Dr. Chilton’s eyes was unmistakable and Miss Polly had seen it. With very pink cheeks she turned and left the room hurriedly.

  Over in the window the nurse and Dr. Warren were talking earnestly. Dr. Chilton held out both his hands to Pollyanna.

  “Little girl, I’m thinking that one of the very gladdest jobs you ever did has been done to-day,” he said in a voice shaken with emotion.

  At twilight a wonderfully tremulous, wonderfully different Aunt Polly crept to Pollyanna’s bedside. The nurse was at supper. They had the room to themselves.

  “Pollyanna, dear, I’m going to tell you—the very first one of all. Some day I’m going to give Dr. Chilton to you for your—uncle. And it’s you that have done it all. Oh, Pollyanna, I’m so—happy! And so—glad!—darling!”

  Pollyanna began to clap her hands; but even as she brought her small palms together the first time, she stopped, and held them suspended.

  “Aunt Polly, Aunt Polly, WERE you the woman’s hand and heart he wanted so long ago? You were—I know you were! And that’s what he meant by saying I’d done the gladdest job of all—to-day. I’m so glad! Why, Aunt Polly, I don’t know but I’m so glad that I don’t mind—even my legs, now!”

  Aunt Polly swallowed a sob.

  “Perhaps, some day, dear—” But Aunt Polly did not finish. Aunt Polly did not dare to tell, yet, the great hope that Dr. Chilton had put into her heart. But she did say this—and surely this was quite wonderful enough—to Pollyanna’s mind:

  “Pollyanna, next week you’re going to take a journey. On a nice comfortable little bed you’re going to be carried in cars and carriages to a great doctor who has a big house many miles from here made on purpose for just such people as you are. He’s a dear friend of Dr. Chilton’s, and we’re going to see what he can do for you!”

  CHAPTER XXXII. WHICH IS A LETTER FROM POLLYANNA

  “Dear Aunt Polly and Uncle Tom:—Oh, I can—I can—I CAN walk! I did to-day all the way from my bed to the window! It was six steps. My, how good it was to be on legs again!

  “All the doctors stood around and smiled, and all the nurses stood beside of them and cried. A lady in the next ward who walked last week first, peeked into the door, and another one who hopes she can walk next month, was invited in to the party, and she laid on my nurse’s bed and clapped her hands. Even Black Tilly who washes the floor, looked through the piazza window and called me ‘Honey, child’ when she wasn’t crying too much to call me anything.

  “I don’t see why they cried. I wanted to sing and shout and yell! Oh—oh—oh! just think, I can walk—walk—WALK! Now I don’t mind being here almost ten months, and I didn’t miss the wedding, anyhow. Wasn’t that just like you, Aunt Polly, to come on here and get married right beside my bed, so I could see you. You always do think of the gladdest things!

  “Pretty soon, they say, I shall go home. I wish I could walk all the way there. I do. I don’t think I shall ever want to ride anywhere any more. It will be so good just to walk. Oh, I’m so glad! I’m glad for everything. Why, I’m glad now I lost my legs for a while, for you never, never know how perfectly lovely legs are till you haven’t got them—that go, I mean. I’m going to walk eight steps to-morrow.

  “With heaps of love to everybody,

  “POLLYANNA.”

  Black Beauty By Anna Sewell

  Part I

  01 My Early Home

  The first place that I can well remember was a large pleasant meadow with a pond of clear water in it. Some shady trees leaned over it, and rushes and water-lilies grew at the deep end. Over the hedge on one side we looked into a plowed field, and on the other we looked over a gate at our master’s house, which stood by the roadside; at the top of the meadow was a grove of fir trees, and at the bottom a running brook overhung by a steep bank.

  While I was young I lived upon my mother’s milk, as I could not eat grass. In the daytime I ran by her side, and at night I lay down close by her. When it was hot we used to stand by the pond in the shade of the trees, and when it was cold we had a nice warm shed near the grove.

  As soon as I was old enough to eat grass my mother used to go out to work in the daytime, and come back in the evening.

  There were six young colts in the meadow besides me; they were older than I was; some were nearly as large as grown-up horses. I used to run with them, and had great fun; we used to gallop all together round and round the field as hard as we could go. Sometimes we had rather rough play, for they would frequently bite and kick as well as gallop.

  One day, when there was a good deal of kicking, my mother whinnied to me to come to her, and then she said:

  “I wish you to pay attention to what I am going to say to you. The colts who live here are very good colts, but they are cart-horse colts, and of course they have not learned manners. You have been well-bred and well-born; your father has a great name in these parts, and your grandfather won the cup two years at the Newmarket races; your grandmother had the sweetest temper of any horse I ever knew, and I think you have never seen me kick or bite. I hope you will grow up gentle and good, and never learn bad ways; do your work with a good will, lift your feet up well when you trot, and never bite or kick even in play.”

  I have never forgotten my mother’s advice; I knew she was a wise old horse, and our master thought a great deal of her. Her name was Duchess, but he often called her Pet.

  Our master was a good, kind man. He gave us good food, good lodging, and kind words; he spoke as kindly to us as he did to his little children. We were all fond of him, and my mother loved him very much. When she saw him at the gate she would neigh with joy, and trot up to him. He would pat and stroke her and say, “Well, old Pet, and how is your little Darkie?” I was a dull black, so he called me Darkie; then he would give me a piece of bread, which was very good, and sometimes he brought a carrot for my mother. All the horses would come to him, but I think we were his favorites. My mother always took him to the town on a market day in a light gig.

  There was a plowboy, Dick, who sometimes came into our field to pluck blackberries from the hedge. When he had eaten all he wanted he would have what he called fun with the colts, throwing stones and sticks at them to make them gallop. We did not much mind him, for we could gallop off; but sometimes a stone would hit and hurt us.

  One day he was at this game, and did not know that the master was in the next field; but he was there, watching what was going on; over the hedge he jumped in a snap, and catching Dick by the arm, he gave him such a box on the ear as made him roar with the pain and surprise. As soon as we saw the master we trotted up nearer to see what went on.

  “Bad boy!” he said, “bad boy! to chase the colts. This is not the first time, nor the second, but it shall be the last. There—take your money and go home; I shall not want you on my farm again.” So we never saw Dick any more. Old Daniel, the man who looked after the horses, was just as gentle as our master, so we were well off.

  02 The Hunt

  Before I was two years old a circumstance happened which I have never forgotten. It was early in the spring; there had been a little frost in the night, and a light mist still hung over the woods and meadows. I and the other colts were feeding at the lower part of the field when we heard, quite in the distance, what sounded like the cry of dogs. The oldest of the colts raised his head, pricked his ears, and said, “There are the hounds!” and immediately cantered off, followed by the rest of us to the upper part of the field, where we could look over the hedge and see several fields beyond. My mother and an old riding horse of our master’s were also standing near, and seemed to know all about it.