Bedtime Tale: Pollyanna Ch 1 And 2

Enjoy this bedtime tale to help you drift off into a peaceful slumber. Tonight we read, Pollyanna by Eleanor H. Porter. Chapters one and two introduce Miss Polly, Nancy, and Old Tom. This audio is perfect for children or adults who want to relax, discover magic, or find adventure before a great night's sleep.

Transcript

Pollyanna by Eleanor H.

Porter Chapter 1 Miss Polly Miss Polly Harrington entered her kitchen a little hurriedly this June morning.

Miss Polly did not usually make hurried movements.

She specially prided herself on her repose of manner.

But today she was hurrying,

Actually hurrying.

Nancy,

Washing dishes at the sink,

Looked up in surprise.

Nancy had been working in Miss Polly's kitchen only two months,

But already she knew that her mistress did not usually hurry.

Nancy,

Yes ma'am,

Nancy asked cheerfully,

But she still continued wiping the pitcher in her hand.

Nancy,

Miss Polly's voice was very stern now,

When I'm talking to you I wish you'd stop your work and listen to what I have to say.

Nancy flushed miserably.

She set the pitcher down at once and the cloth still about it,

Thereby nearly tipping it over,

Which did not add to her composure.

Yes,

Ma'am,

I will,

Ma'am,

She stammered,

Writing the pitcher and turning hastily.

I was only keeping on with my work,

Cause you specially told me this morning to hurry with my dishes,

You know.

Her mistress frowned.

That will do,

Nancy.

I did not ask for explanations.

I asked for your attention.

Yes,

Ma'am,

Nancy stifled a sigh.

She was wondering if ever,

In any way,

She could please this woman.

Nancy had never worked out before,

But a sick mother suddenly widowed and left with three younger children besides Nancy herself,

Had forced the girl into doing something toward their support.

And she'd been so pleased when she found a place in the kitchen of the great house on the hill.

Nancy had come from the corners,

Six miles away,

And she knew Miss Polly Harrington only as the mistress of the old Harrington homestead and one of the wealthiest residents of the town.

That was two months before.

She knew Miss Polly now as a stern,

Severe-faced woman who frowned if a knife clattered to the floor or if a door banged,

But who never thought to smile even when knives and doors were still.

When you're finished with your morning work,

Nancy,

Miss Polly was saying now,

You may clear the little room at the head of the stairs in the attic and make up the cot bed,

Sweep the room and clean it,

Of course,

After you clear out the trunks and boxes.

Yes,

Ma'am,

And where shall I put the things,

Please,

That I take out?

In the front attic.

Miss Polly hesitated,

Then went on,

I suppose I may as well tell you now,

Nancy,

My niece,

Miss Polly Anna Whittier,

Is coming to live with me.

She's eleven years old and will sleep in that room.

A little girl coming here,

Miss Harrington?

Oh,

Won't that be nice?

Sighed Nancy,

Thinking of the sunshine her own little sisters made in the home at the corners.

Nice?

Well,

That isn't exactly the word I should use,

Rejoined Miss Polly stiffly.

However,

I intend to make the best of it,

Of course.

I am a good woman,

I hope,

And I know my duty.

Nancy colored haughtily.

Of course,

Ma'am,

It was only that I thought a little girl here might brighten things up for you,

She faltered.

Thank you,

Rejoined the lady dryly.

I can't say,

However,

That I see any immediate need for that.

But of course you,

You'd want her,

Your sister's child,

Ventured Nancy,

Vaguely feeling that somehow she must prepare a welcome for this lonely little stranger.

Miss Polly lifted her head haughtily.

Well really,

Nancy,

Just because I happen to have a sister who was silly enough to marry and bring unnecessary children into a world that was already quite full enough,

I can't see how I should particularly want to have to care for them myself.

However,

As I said before,

I hope I know my duty.

See that you clean the corners,

Nancy,

She finished sharply as she left the room.

Yes,

Ma'am,

Sighed Nancy,

Picking up the half-dried pitcher,

Now so cold that it must be rinsed again.

In her own room,

Miss Polly took out,

Once more,

The letter which she had received two days before from the faraway western town,

And which had been so unpleasant a surprise to her.

The letter was addressed to Miss Polly Harrington,

Beldingsville,

Vermont,

And it read as follows.

Dear Madam,

I regret to inform you that the Reverend John Whittier died two weeks ago,

Leaving one child,

A girl eleven years old.

He left practically nothing else save a few books,

For as you doubtless know,

He was the pastor of this small mission church,

And had a very meager salary.

I believe he was your deceased sister's husband,

But he gave me to understand the families were not on the best terms.

He thought,

However,

That for your sister's sake,

You might wish to take the child and bring her up among her own people in the east,

Hence I am writing to you.

The little girl will be ready to start by the time you get this letter,

And if you can take her,

We would appreciate it very much if you would write that she might come at once,

As there is a man and his wife here who are going east very soon,

And they would take her with them to Boston,

And put her on the Beldingsville train.

Of course,

You would be notified what day and train to expect Pollyanna on.

Hoping to hear favorably from you soon,

I remain,

Respectfully yours,

Jeremiah O.

White.

With a frown,

Miss Polly folded the letter and tucked it into its envelope.

She had answered it the day before,

And she had said she would take the child,

Of course.

She hoped she knew her duty well enough for that,

Disagreeable as the task would be.

Where she sat now,

With the letter in her hands,

Her thoughts went back to her sister,

Jenny,

Who had been this child's mother,

And to the time when Jenny,

As a girl of twenty,

Had insisted upon marrying the young minister,

In spite of her family's hesitations.

There had been a man of wealth who had wanted her,

And the family had much preferred him to the minister,

But Jenny had not.

The man of wealth had more years,

As well as more money,

To his credit,

While the minister had only a young head full of youth's ideals and enthusiasm,

And a heart full of love.

Jenny had preferred these,

Quite naturally,

Perhaps,

So she had married the minister,

And had gone south with him,

As a home missionary's wife.

The break had come then.

Miss Polly remembered it well.

Though she had been but a girl of fifteen,

The youngest at the time,

The family had little more to do with the missionary's wife.

To be sure,

Jenny herself had written for a time,

And had named her last baby Pollyanna,

For her two sisters,

Polly and Anna.

The other babies all had died.

This had been the last time that Jenny had written,

And in a few years there had come the news of her death,

Told in a short but heart-broken little note from the minister himself,

Dated at a little town in the west.

Meanwhile,

Time had not stood still for the occupants of the great house on the hill.

Miss Polly,

Looking out at the far-reaching valley below,

Thought of the changes those twenty-five years had brought to her.

She was forty now,

And quite alone in the world.

Father,

Mother,

Sisters,

All were dead.

For years now she had been the sole mistress of the house,

And of the thousands left her by her father.

There were people who had openly pitied her lonely life,

And who had urged her to have some friend or companion to live with her,

But she had not welcomed either their sympathy or their advice.

She was not lonely,

She said.

She liked being by herself.

She preferred quiet.

But now.

.

.

Miss Polly rose with frowning face and closely shut lips.

She was glad,

Of course,

That she was a good woman,

And that she not only knew her duty,

But had sufficient strength of character to perform it.

But.

.

.

Polly Anna,

What a ridiculous name.

Chapter 2.

Old Tom and Nancy In the little attic room Nancy swept and scrubbed vigorously,

Paying particular attention to the corners.

There were times,

Indeed,

When the vigor she put into her work was more of a relief to her feelings than it was an ardor to effister.

Nancy,

In spite of her frightened submission to her mistress,

Was no saint.

I just wish I could dig out the corners of her soul,

She muttered jerkily,

Punctuating her words with murderous jabs of her pointed cleaning stick.

There's plenty of them needs cleaning,

All right,

All right.

But the idea of sticking that blessed child way up here in this hot little room with no fire in the winter,

And all this big house to pick and choose from?

Unnecessary children,

Indeed,

Snapped Nancy,

Wringing her rag so hard her fingers ached from the strain.

I guess it ain't children what is most unnecessary just now,

Just now.

For some time she worked in silence,

Then her task finished.

She looked about the bare little room in plain disgust.

Well,

It's done,

My part anyhow,

She sighed.

There ain't no dirt here,

And there ain't mighty little else,

Poor little soul.

A pretty place this is to put a homesick,

Lonesome child into.

She finished,

Going out and closing the door with a bang.

Oh,

She ejaculated,

Biting her lip,

Then doggedly,

Well,

I don't care.

I hope she did hear that bang,

I do,

I do.

In the garden that afternoon,

Nancy found a few minutes to which to interview old Tom,

Who had pulled the weeds and shoveled the paths for the place for uncounted years.

Mr.

Tom,

Began Nancy,

Throwing a quick glance over her shoulder to make sure she was unobserved.

Did you know a little girl was coming to live here with Miss Polly?

A what?

Demanded the old man,

Straightening his bent back with difficulty.

A little girl,

To live with Miss Polly.

Go on with your joking,

Scoffed unbelieving Tom.

Why don't you tell me the sun is going to set in the east tomorrow?

But it's true,

She told me so herself,

Maintained Nancy.

It's her niece,

And she's eleven years old.

The man's jaw fell.

So,

I wonder now,

He muttered,

Then a tender light came into his faded eyes.

It ain't,

But it must be.

Miss Jenny's little gal.

There wasn't none of the rest of them married.

Why Nancy,

It must be Miss Jenny's little gal.

Glory,

Beat,

Or praise,

To think my old eyes a-seein' this.

Who was Miss Jenny?

She was an angel straight out of heaven,

Breathed the man fervently.

But the old master and missus knew her as their oldest daughter.

She was twenty when she married and went away from here long years ago.

Her babies all died,

I heard,

Except the last one,

And that must be the one that's a-comin'.

She's eleven years old.

Yes,

She might be,

Nodded the old man.

And she's going to sleep in the attic.

More shame to her,

Scolded Nancy with another glance over her shoulder toward the house behind her.

Old Tom frowned.

The next moment a curious smile curved his lips.

I'm a-wonderin' what Miss Polly will do with a child in the house,

He said.

Hmm,

Well,

I'm a-wonderin' what a child will do with Miss Polly in the house,

Snapped Nancy.

The old man laughed.

I'm afraid you ain't fond of Miss Polly,

He grinned.

As if anybody could be fond of her,

Scorned Nancy.

Old Tom smiled oddly.

He stood and began to work again.

I guess maybe you didn't know about Miss Polly's love affair,

He said slowly.

Love affair?

Her?

No.

And I guess nobody else did either.

Oh,

Yes,

They did,

Nodded the old man.

And the fellers livin' today right in this town,

Too.

Who is he?

I ain't tellin' that.

It ain't fit that I should.

The old man drew himself erect.

In his dim blue eyes as he faced the house,

There was the loyal servant's honest pride in the family he had served and loved for long years.

But it don't seem possible.

Her and a lover?

Still maintained Nancy.

Old Tom shook his head.

You didn't know Miss Polly as I did,

He argued.

She used to be real handsome.

And she would be now,

If she'd let herself be.

Handsome?

Miss Polly?

Yes,

If she'd just let that hair tied of her and all loose and careless like,

As it used to be,

And wear the sort of bonnets with posies in them,

And the kind of dresses all lace and white things,

You'd see she'd be handsome.

Miss Polly ain't old Nancy.

Ain't she,

Though?

Well then she's got an awfully good imitation of it.

She has,

She has,

Sniffed Nancy.

Yes,

I know.

It begun then,

At the time of the trouble with her lover,

Nodded old Tom,

And it seems as if she'd been feeding on wormwood and thistles ever since.

She's that bitter and prickly to deal with.

I should say she was,

Declared Nancy.

There's no pleasing her no how,

No matter how you try.

I wouldn't stay,

If twat,

For the wages,

And the folks at home must neaten them.

But some day,

Some day I shall just bile over,

And when I do,

Of course it'll be good-bye Nancy from me.

It will,

It will.

Old Tom shook his head.

I know,

I felt it.

But it's not best,

Child,

It's not best.

Take my word for it.

And again he bent his old head to the work before him.

Nancy,

Called a sharp voice,

Yes ma'am,

Stammered Nancy,

And hurried toward the house.

And that is the end of our story this evening.

Until next time,

Sweet dreams.

Reviews

Interesting tale! Some fun is coming, I sense. Thank you🙏🏽❤️

Lovely, good to be back listening to another old favourite from childhood. I lost the message of thanks you sent from the last donation I made. Can I find that I wonder. Hope all is well with you and your family. 🙏🏼❤️

Fantastic!! I am so excited to hear all of this book!!

I read this as a child and still have my mom’s copy. Thank you for choosing this book. I love listening to you.