“Oh, yes. She told me long ago.” The old man hesitated, then went on, his lips twitching a little. “I was growlin’ one day ’cause I was so bent up and crooked; an’ what do ye s’pose the little thing said?”

“I couldn’t guess. I wouldn’t think she could find anythin’ about that ter be glad about!”

“She did. She said I could be glad, anyhow, that I didn’t have ter stoop so far ter do my weedin’ ’cause I was already bent part way over.”

Nancy gave a wistful laugh.

“Well, I ain’t surprised, after all. You might know she’d find somethin’. We’ve been playin’ it—that game—since almost the first, ’cause there wa’n’t no one else she could play it with—though she did speak of—her aunt.”

“Miss Polly!”

Nancy chuckled.

“I guess you hain’t got such an awful diff’rent opinion o’ the mistress than I have,” she bridled.

Old Tom stiffened.

“I was only thinkin’ ’twould be—some of a surprise—to her,” he explained with dignity.

“Well, yes, I guess ’twould be—then,” retorted Nancy. “I ain’t sayin’ what ’twould be now. I’d believe anythin’ o’ the mistress now—even that she’d take ter playin’ it herself!”

“But hain’t the little gal told her—ever? She’s told ev’ry one else, I guess. I’m hearin’ of it ev’rywhere, now, since she was hurted,” said Tom.

“Well, she didn’t tell Miss Polly,” rejoined Nancy. “Miss Pollyanna told me long ago that she couldn’t tell her, ’cause her aunt didn’t like ter have her talk about her father; an’ ’twas her father’s game, an’ she’d have ter talk about him if she did tell it. So she never told her.”

“Oh, I see, I see.” The old man nodded his head slowly. “They was always bitter against the minister chap—all of ’em, ’cause he took Miss Jennie away from ’em. An’ Miss Polly—young as she was—couldn’t never forgive him; she was that fond of Miss Jennie—in them days. I see, I see. ’Twas a bad mess,” he sighed, as he turned away.

“Yes, ’twas—all ’round, all ’round,” sighed Nancy in her turn, as she went back to her kitchen.

For no one were those days of waiting easy. The nurse tried to look cheerful, but her eyes were troubled. The doctor was openly nervous and impatient. Miss Polly said little; but even the softening waves of hair about her face, and the becoming laces at her throat, could not hide the fact that she was growing thin and pale. As to Pollyanna—Pollyanna petted the dog, smoothed the cat’s sleek head, admired the flowers and ate the fruits and jellies that were sent in to her; and returned innumerable cheery answers to the many messages of love and inquiry that were brought to her bedside. But she, too, grew pale and thin; and the nervous activity of the poor little hands and arms only emphasized the pitiful motionlessness of the once active little feet and legs now lying so woefully quiet under the blankets.

As to the game—Pollyanna told Nancy these days how glad she was going to be when she could go to school again, go to see Mrs. Snow, go to call on Mr. Pendleton, and go to ride with Dr. Chilton nor did she seem to realize that all this “gladness” was in the future, not the present. Nancy, however, did realize it—and cry about it, when she was alone.