11:52

Pollyanna Ch 23

by Hilary Lafone

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Enjoy this bedtime tale to help you drift off into a peaceful slumber. Tonight's reading is Pollyanna by Eleanor H. Porter. Chapter 23 is about an unfortunate situation that befell Pollyanna. This audio is perfect for children or adults who want to relax, discover magic, or find adventure before a great night's sleep.

Bedtime StoryRelaxationSleepAdventureChildrenEmotional SupportFamilyEmotional ResilienceAccident RecoveryChild PerspectiveMedical AttentionFamily Relationships

Transcript

Pollyanna by Eleanor H.

Porter CHAPTER XXIII.

AN ACCIDENT At Miss Snow's request,

Pollyanna went one day to Dr.

Chilton's office to get the name of a medicine which Miss Snow had forgotten.

As it chanced,

Pollyanna had never before seen the inside of Dr.

Chilton's office.

I've never been to your home before.

This is your home,

Isn't it?

The doctor smiled a little sadly.

Yes,

Such as tis,

He answered,

As he wrote something on the pad of paper in his hand.

But it's a pretty poor apology for a home,

Pollyanna.

They're just rooms,

That's all.

Not a home.

Pollyanna nodded her head wisely.

Her eyes glowed with sympathetic understanding.

I know.

It takes a woman's hand and heart,

Or a child's presence,

To make a home,

She said.

Eh?

The doctor wheeled about abruptly.

Mr.

Pendleton told me,

Nodded Pollyanna again,

About the woman's hand and heart,

Or the child's presence,

You know.

Why don't you get a woman's hand and heart,

Dr.

Chilton?

Or maybe you'd take Jimmy Bean,

If Mr.

Pendleton doesn't want him.

Dr.

Chilton laughed a little constrainedly.

So Mr.

Pendleton says it takes a woman's hand and heart to make a home,

Does he?

He asked evasively.

Yes,

He says his is just a house,

Too.

Why don't you,

Dr.

Chilton?

Why don't I what?

The doctor had turned back to his desk.

Get a woman's hand and heart.

Oh,

I forgot.

Pollyanna's face showed suddenly a painful color.

I suppose I ought to tell you.

It wasn't Aunt Polly that Mr.

Pendleton loved long ago.

And so we,

We aren't going to live there.

You see,

I told you it was,

But I made a mistake.

I hope you didn't tell anyone,

She finished anxiously.

No,

I didn't tell anyone,

Pollyanna,

Replied the doctor,

A little queerly.

Oh,

That's all right then,

Said Pollyanna in relief.

You see,

You're the only one I told,

And I thought Mr.

Pendleton looked sort of funny when I said I told you.

Did he?

The doctor's lips twitched.

Yes,

And of course he wouldn't want many people to know it when it wasn't true.

But why don't you get a woman's hand and heart,

Dr.

Chilton?

There was a moment's silence.

Then very gravely,

The doctor said,

They're not always to be had for the asking little girl.

Pollyanna frowned thoughtfully.

But I should think you could get them,

She argued.

The flattering emphasis was unmistakable.

Thank you,

Laughed the doctor with uplifted eyebrows.

Then gravely again,

I'm afraid some of your older sisters would not be quite so confident.

At least they,

They haven't shown themselves to be so obliging,

He observed.

Pollyanna frowned again,

Then her eyes widened in surprise.

Why,

Dr.

Chilton,

You don't mean,

You didn't try to get somebody's hand and heart once like Mr.

Pendleton and,

And couldn't,

Did you?

The doctor got to his feet a little abruptly.

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 Miss 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 it wasn't my mother's hand and heart that you wanted and couldn't get,

Dr.

Chilton.

Goodbye.

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 anyone found who could tell why it happened or who was to blame that it happened.

Pollyanna,

However,

At five o'clock,

Was born,

Limp and unconscious,

Into the little room that was so dear to her.

There,

By a white-faced Aunt Polly and a weeping Nancy,

She was undressed tenderly and put to bed.

While from the village,

Hastily summoned by telephone,

Dr.

Warren was hurrying as fast as another motor car could bring him.

And you didn't need to more look at your aunt's face,

Nancy was sobbing to old Tom in the garden,

After the doctor had arrived and was closeted in the hushed room.

Ye didn't need to look more than her aunt's face to see that there was no duty that was eating her.

Her hands don't shake and her eyes don't look as if he was trying to hold back the angel of death himself.

And you're just doing your duty.

Mr.

Tom,

They don't.

They don't.

Is she hurt bad?

The old man's voice shook.

There ain't no telling,

Sobbed Nancy.

She lay back,

That white,

And still,

She might easy be dead.

But Miss Polly said she wasn't dead.

And Miss Polly had ought to know.

If anyone would.

She kept up such a listening and a feeling for her heartbeats and her breath.

Couldn't tell anything what done to her.

That.

That.

Old Tom's face worked convulsively.

Nancy's lips relaxed a little.

I wish you would call it something.

Mr.

Tom ain't something good and strong to drat it,

To think of it running down our little girl.

I always hated the evil smelling things.

Anyhow,

I did.

I did.

But where is she hurt?

I don't know.

I don't know,

Moaned Nancy.

There's a little cut on her blessed head.

But isn't bad.

Miss Polly says.

She says she's afraid.

It's infernally she's hurt.

A flint flicker came into Old Tom's eyes.

I guess you mean internally,

Nancy,

He said dryly.

She's hurt infernally,

All right.

Plague,

Take that automobile.

But I don't guess Miss Polly be using that word all the same.

Eh?

Well,

I don't know.

I don't know,

Moaned Nancy.

With the shake of her head as she turned away.

Seems as if I just couldn't stand it till that doctor gets over there.

I wish I had a washing to do.

The biggest washing I ever see.

I do.

I do.

She wailed,

Wringing her hands helplessly.

Even after the doctor was gone,

However,

There seemed to be little that Nancy could tell Mr.

Tom.

There appeared to be no broken bones.

And the cut was of slight consequence.

But the doctor had looked very grave,

Had shaken his head slowly,

And had said that time alone could tell.

After he had gone,

Miss Polly had shown a face even wider and more drawn looking than before.

The patient had not fully recovered consciousness,

But at present she seemed to be resting as comfortably as could be expected.

A trained nurse had been sent for and would come that night.

That was all.

And Nancy turned sobbingly and went back to the kitchen.

It was sometime during the next forenoon that Polly Anna opened conscious eyes and realized where she was.

Why,

Aunt Polly,

What's the matter?

Isn't it daytime?

Why don't I get up?

She cried.

Why,

Aunt Polly,

I can't get up.

She moaned,

Falling back on her pillow after an infectual attempt to lift herself.

No,

Dear,

I wouldn't try just yet,

Soothed her aunt quickly,

But very quietly.

But what is the matter?

Why can't I get up?

Miss Polly's eyes asked an agonized question of the white-capped young woman standing in the window out of the range of Polly Anna's eyes.

The young woman nodded.

Tell her,

The lip said.

Miss Polly cleared her throat and tried to swallow the lump that would scarcely let her speak.

You were hurt,

Dear,

By the automobile last night,

But never mind that now.

Auntie wants you to rest and go to sleep again.

Hurt?

Oh,

Yes,

I ran.

Polly Anna's eyes were dazed.

She lifted her hand to her forehead.

Why,

It's done up and it hurts.

Yes,

Dear,

But never mind.

Just rest.

But Aunt Polly,

I feel so funny and so bad.

My legs feel so queer,

Only they don't feel at all.

With an imploring look into the nurse's face,

Miss Polly struggled to her feet and turned away.

The nurse came forward quickly.

Suppose you let me talk to you now,

She began cheerily.

I'm sure I think it's high time we were getting acquainted and I'm going to introduce myself.

I am Miss Hunt and I've come to help your aunt take care of you.

And the very first thing I'm going to do is ask you to swallow these little white pills for me.

Polly Anna's eyes grew a bit wild.

But I don't want to be taken care of.

That is not for long.

I want to get up.

You know,

I want to go to school.

Can't I go to school tomorrow?

From the window where Aunt Polly stood,

There came a half stifled cry.

Tomorrow,

Smiled the nurse brightly.

Well,

I may not let you out quite as soon as that,

Miss Polly Anna,

But just swallow these little pills for me,

Please,

And we'll see what they'll do.

All right,

Said Polly Anna,

Somewhat doubtfully.

But I must go to school day after tomorrow.

There are examinations then,

You know.

She spoke again a minute later.

She spoke of school and of the automobile and of how her head ached.

But very soon her voice trailed into silence under the blessed influence of the white little pills she had swallowed.

And that is the end of our story this evening.

Until next time,

Sweet dreams.

Meet your Teacher

Hilary LafoneBroomfield, CO, USA

5.0 (29)

Recent Reviews

Annemarie

May 2, 2025

Lovely story, chapter after chapter, and so beautifully read. Your voice is an important part of my bedtime routine. Thank you for that 🙏🏻

Vanessa

May 1, 2025

Thanks Hilary, all caught up with many extra hours of slumber too. So grateful. 🙏🏼❤️

Becka

April 30, 2025

Oh dear! I guess we can be glad she’s alive🙈 but scary! Thank you❤️🫶🏼🙏🏼

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© 2026 Hilary Lafone. All rights reserved. All copyright in this work remains with the original creator. No part of this material may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, without the prior written permission of the copyright owner.

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