11 Pollyanna - Read By Stephanie Poppins

Pollyanna Whittier, an eleven-year-old orphan, goes to live in the fictional town of Beldingsville, Vermont, with her wealthy but stern and cold spinster Aunt Polly Harrington, who does not want to take her in but feels it is her duty to her late sister Jennie.

Pollyanna's philosophy of life centers on what she calls "The Glad Game". This is an optimistic game she learned from her father. The game consists of finding something to be glad about in every situation, no matter how bleak the situation might be.

In this episode, Pollyanna brings home her waifs and strays.

Transcript

Welcome to Sleep Stories with Steph,

Your go-to podcast that offers you a calm and relaxing transition into a great night's sleep.

It is time to relax and fully let go.

There is nothing you need to be doing now and nowhere you need to go.

Close your eyes and feel yourself sink into the support beneath you and let all the worries of the day drift away.

This is your time and your space.

Take a deep breath in through your nose and let it out with a long sigh.

There is nothing you need to be doing now and nowhere you need to go.

Happy listening.

Chapter 11 August came,

August brought several surprises and some changes,

None of which,

However,

Were really a surprise to Nancy.

Since Pollyanna's arrival,

Nancy had come to look for surprises and changes.

First there was the kitten.

Pollyanna found it mewing pitifully some distance down the road.

When systematic questioning of the neighbours failed to find anyone who claimed it,

Pollyanna brought it home at once as a matter of course.

And I was glad I didn't find anyone who owned it too,

She told her aunt in happy confidence,

Because I knew I wanted to bring it home all the time.

I love kittens.

I knew you'd be glad to let it live here.

Miss Polly looked at the forlorn little grey bunch of neglected misery and shivered.

She did not care for cats,

Not even pretty,

Healthy,

Clean ones.

Oh,

Pollyanna,

What a dirty little beast,

And it's sick,

I'm sure,

And all mangy and flea.

I know it,

Poor little thing,

Crooned Pollyanna tenderly,

And it's all trembly too.

You see,

It doesn't know yet that we're going to keep it,

Of course.

Nor does anybody else,

Retorted Miss Polly with meaning emphasis.

Oh,

Yes,

They do,

Nodded Pollyanna,

Entirely misunderstanding.

I told everyone we should keep it,

If I didn't find where it belonged.

I knew you'd be glad to have it,

Poor little lonesome thing.

Miss Polly opened her lips and tried to speak,

But in vain.

The curious,

Helpless feeling that had been hers so often since Pollyanna's arrival had her now fast in its grip.

Of course,

I knew,

Hurried on Pollyanna,

That you wouldn't let a dear little lonesome kitty go to hunting for a home when you'd just taken me in.

And I said so to Mrs.

Ford when she asked if you'd help me keep it.

I had the lady's aid,

You know,

And Kitty didn't have anybody.

I knew you'd feel that way.

But Pollyanna,

Remonstrated Miss Polly,

I don't.

But Pollyanna was already halfway to the kitchen.

Nancy,

Just see this dear little kitty Aunt Polly's going to let us bring up.

Aunt Polly,

Meanwhile,

In the sitting room,

Fell back in her chair with a gasp of dismay,

Powerless to remonstrate.

The next day it was a dog,

Even dirtier and more forlorn,

Perhaps,

Than was the kitten.

And again Miss Polly,

To her dumbfounded amazement,

Found herself figuring as a kind of protector and an angel of mercy,

A role that Pollyanna so unhesitatingly thrust upon her as a matter of course.

When in less than a week,

However,

Pollyanna brought home a small ragged boy and confidently claimed the same protection for him,

Miss Polly did have something to say.

It happened after this.

On a pleasant Thursday morning,

Pollyanna had been taking calf's foot jelly again to Mrs Snow.

Mrs Snow and Pollyanna were the best of friends now.

Their friendship had started from the third visit,

The one after she had told Mrs Snow of the game.

Mrs Snow herself was playing the game now with Pollyanna.

To be sure,

She was not playing it very well.

She had been sorry for everything for so long that it was not easy to be glad for everything now.

But under Pollyanna's cheery instructions and merry laughter at her mistakes,

She was learning fast.

Today even,

To Pollyanna's huge delight,

She had said she was glad Pollyanna brought calf's foot jelly because that was what she had been wanting.

She did not know that Millie at the front door had told Pollyanna.

The minister's wife had already that day sent over a great bowlful.

Pollyanna was thinking of this now when suddenly she saw the boy.

He was sitting in a disconsolate little heap by the roadside,

Whittling half-heartedly at a small stick.

Hello,

Smiled Pollyanna engagingly.

The boy glanced up but he looked away again at once.

Allow yourself,

He muttered.

Pollyanna laughed.

Now you don't look as if you'd be glad even for calf's foot jelly,

She chuckled.

The boy stirred restlessly,

Giving her a surprised look.

Then he began to whittle again at his stick with a dull broken bladed knife in his hand.

Pollyanna hesitated then dropped herself comfortably down on the grass near him.

In spite of her brave assertion that she was used to ladies' aiders and didn't mind,

She'd sighed at times for some companion of her own,

Hence her determination to make the most of this one.

My name is Pollyanna Whittier,

She began pleasantly.

What's yours?

Again the boy stirred restlessly.

He even almost got to his feet,

But he settled back.

Jimmy Bean,

He grunted with ungracious indifference.

Good,

Now we're introduced.

I'm glad you did your part.

Some folks don't,

You know.

I live at Miss Polly Harrington's house.

Where do you live?

Nowhere.

Nowhere?

You can't do that.

Everybody lives somewhere.

Well,

I don't just now.

I'm hunting up a new place.

Oh,

Where is it?

The boy regarded her with scornful eyes.

Silly,

As if I'd been hunting for it if I knew.

Pollyanna tossed her head a little.

This was not a nice boy and she did not like to be called silly.

Still,

He was somebody besides old folks.

Where did you live before?

She queried.

If you ain't the bait for asking questions,

Sighed the boy.

I have to be,

Retorted Pollyanna calmly,

Else I couldn't find out a thing about you.

If you'd talk more,

I wouldn't talk so much.

The boy gave a short laugh.

It was a sheepish laugh and not quite a willing one,

But his face looked a little pleasanter when he spoke this time.

All right then,

Here goes.

I'm Jimmy Bean and I'm ten years old,

Going on eleven.

I come last year to live at the orphan's home,

But they got so many kids there,

There ain't much room for me.

And I ain't ever wanted anyhow,

I don't believe,

So I've quit.

I'm going to live somewhere else,

But I ain't found the place yet.

I'd like a home,

Just a common one,

You know,

With a mother in it instead of a matron.

If he has a home,

He has folks.

And I ain't had folks since Dad died.

So I'm hunting now.

I tried four houses,

But they didn't want me.

Though I said I expected to work,

Of course.

There.

Is that all you want to know?

The boy's voice had broken a little over the last two sentences.

What a shame,

Sympathised Pollyanna.

Wasn't there anyone who wanted you?

I know just how you feel.

After my father died too,

There wasn't anybody but the ladies aid for me.

Then Aunt Polly said she'd take me.

Pollyanna stopped abruptly.

The dawning of a wonderful idea began to show in her face.

I know just the place for you,

She cried.

Aunt Polly will take you,

I know she will.

Didn't she take me?

And didn't she take Fluffy and Buffy?

When they didn't have anyone to love them or any place to go.

They're only cats and dogs.

Come,

I know Aunt Polly will take you.

You don't know how good and kind she is.

Jimmy Bean's thin little face brightened.

Would she now?

I'd work,

You know,

And I'm real strong.

He bared a small bony arm.

Of course she would.

My Aunt Polly's the nicest lady in the world,

Now that my mama's gone to being heaven angel.

And there's rooms,

Heaps of them.

It's an awful big house.

Maybe you'll have to sleep in the attic room.

I did at first,

But there's screens there now so it won't be too hot,

And the flies can't get in either.

Maybe she'll even let you read the book if you're good.

I mean,

If you're bad.

And you've got freckles too,

With a critical glance.

So you'll be glad there isn't any looking glass.

And the outdoor picture is nicer than any wall one could be,

So you won't mind sleeping in that room at all,

I'm sure.

Pollyanna was panting now,

Finding suddenly she needed the rest of her breath for purposes other than talking.

Caw!

Exclaimed Jimmy Bean,

Tersely and uncomprehendedly,

But admiringly.

Then he added,

I shouldn't think anybody who could talk like that running would need to ask no questions to fill up time with.

Pollyanna laughed.

Well anyhow,

You can be glad of that,

She retorted,

But when I'm talking,

You don't have to.

When the house was reached,

Pollyanna unhesitatingly piloted her companion straight into the presence of her amazed art.

Oh,

Aunt Polly,

She triumphed.

Just look here.

I've got something ever so much nicer than fluffy and buffy for you to bring up.

It's a real live boy.

He won't mind a bit sleeping in the attic at first,

You know,

And he says he'll work,

But I'll need him most of the time to play with,

I reckon.

Miss Polly grew white,

Then very red.

She did not quite understand,

But she thought she understood enough.

Pollyanna,

What does this mean?

Who is this dirty little boy?

Where did you find him?

The dirty little boy then fell back a step and looked toward the door.

There,

If he didn't forget to tell you his name,

Said Pollyanna,

He's for you.

I brought him home so he could live here,

You know.

He wants a home and folks.

I told him how good you were to me and to fluffy and buffy and I knew you would be good to him because of course he's even nicer than cats and dogs.

This is Jimmy Bean,

Aunt Polly.

Miss Polly dropped back in her chair and raised a shaking hand to her throat.

The old helplessness was threatening once more to overcome her.

With a visible struggle,

However,

She pulled herself suddenly erect.

That will do,

Pollyanna.

This is a little of the most absurd thing you've done yet.

As if tramp cats and mangy dogs weren't bad enough,

You must need to bring home ragged little beggars from the street.

There was a sudden stir from the boy at this.

His eyes flashed and his chin came up.

I ain't a beggar,

Ma'am,

And I don't want nothing of you.

I was wanting to work,

That's all,

For my board and keep.

I wouldn't have come to your old house anyhow if this here girl hadn't made me.

Telling me how you were so good and kind and you were just dying to take me in.

So there.

Then he wheeled about and stalked from the room with a dignity that would have been absurd had it not been so pitiful.

Oh,

Our Polly,

Choked Pollyanna.

Why,

I thought you'd be glad to have him here.

I'm sure I should think you'd be glad.

Pollyanna,

Cried Miss Polly sharply.

Will you stop using that everlasting word,

Glad?

He's glad this and cut that from morning to night.

At this,

Pollyanna broke off,

Clapping her hand to her lips and hurrying blindly from the room.

Before the boy had reached the end of the driveway,

She overtook him.

Jimmy Bean,

I want you to know how sorry I am,

She panted,

Catching up with him.

Sorry nothing,

I ain't blaming you,

Retorted the boy.

But I ain't no beggar.

Of course you aren't.

But you mustn't blame Auntie.

Probably I didn't do the introducing right anyhow and I reckon I didn't tell her much who you were.

She is good and kind,

Really.

She's always been.

But I probably didn't explain it right.

I do wish I could find some place for you,

Though.

The boy shrugged his shoulders and half turned away.

Never mind.

I guess I can find one myself.

I ain't no beggar.

Pollyanna frowned thoughtfully.

And then all of a sudden,

She turned her face illuminated.

Say,

I'll tell you what I will do.

The ladies' aide meets this afternoon.

I heard Aunt Polly say so.

I'll lay your case before them.

That's what Father always did when he wanted anything.

Educating the heathen a new carpet,

You know.

The boy turned fiercely.

Well,

I ain't an heathen or a new carpet.

Besides,

What is a ladies' aide?

Pollyanna stared in shock disapproval.

Why,

Jimmy Bean,

Wherever have you been brought up?

It's a lot of ladies that meet and sew and give suppers and raise money and stuff.

They're awfully kind.

Well,

Most of mine were.

I haven't seen this one here,

But they're always good,

I reckon.

I'm going to tell them about you this afternoon.

Not much,

You will.

Maybe you think I'm going to turn round here and have a whole lot of women call me a beggar as well.

Oh,

But you wouldn't be there.

I'd go alone,

Of course,

And I'd tell them.

You would?

Yes,

And I'd tell it better this time.

I'd work,

Don't forget to say that,

Cautioned the boy.

Of course not,

Promised Pollyanna happily.

Maybe I'd better go back then,

For tonight,

To the home,

Said the boy.

You see,

I ain't got no other place to stay,

And I didn't leave till this morning.

I just slipped out.

I didn't tell them I wasn't coming back.

They'll say,

Pretend I couldn't come.

Though I'm thinking they won't do no worrying when I don't show up sometime.

They ain't like folks,

You know.

They don't really care.

I know,

Nodded Pollyanna with understanding eyes.

But I'm sure when I meet you tomorrow,

I'll have just a common home and folks that do care all ready for you.

Goodbye then,

She called brightly,

And she turned back towards the house.

In the sitting room window at that moment,

Miss Polly,

Who had been watching the two children,

Followed with sombre eyes the boy until a bend of the road hid him from sight.

Then she sighed,

Turned,

And walked listlessly upstairs.

In her ears was still the boy's scornful,

He was so good and kind,

And in her heart was a curious sense of desolation,

As of something lost.