AN ACCIDENT
At Mrs. Snow's request, Pollyanna went one day to Dr. Chilton's
office to get the name of a medicine which Mrs. 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?" she said, looking interestedly about her.
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--and 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 there to live. You see, I told you it
was--but I made a mistake. I hope YOU didn't tell any one," she
finished anxiously.
"No--I didn't tell any one, Pollyanna," replied the doctor, a
little queerly.
"Oh, that's all right, then," sighed 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'd told YOU."
"Did he?" The doctor's lips twitched.
"Yes. And of course he wouldn't want many people to know it--when
'twasn'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 'em," 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 Mrs. 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 'twasn't my mother's
hand and heart that you wanted and couldn't get, Dr. Chilton.
Good-by!"
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 any one found who could tell why it happened or who was
to blame that it did happen. Pollyanna, however, at five o'clock,
was borne, 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 ye didn't need ter more'n look at her 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 ter
more'n look at her aunt's face ter see that 'twa'n't no duty that
was eatin' her. Yer hands don't shake, and yer eyes don't look as
if ye was tryin' ter hold back the Angel o' Death himself, when
you're jest doin' yer DUTY, Mr. Tom they don't, they don't!"
"Is she hurt--bad?" The old man's voice shook.
"There ain't no tellin'," sobbed Nancy. "She lay back that white
an' still she might easy be dead; but Miss Polly said she wa'n't
dead--an' Miss Polly had oughter know, if any one would--she kept
up such a listenin' an' a feelin' for her heartbeats an' her
breath!"
"Couldn't ye tell anythin' what it done to her?--that--that--"
Old Tom's face worked convulsively.
Nancy's lips relaxed a little.
"I wish ye WOULD call it somethin', Mr. Tom an' somethin' good
an' strong, too. Drat it! Ter think of its runnin' down our
little girl! I always hated the evil-smellin' 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 'tain't bad--that ain't--Miss Polly
says. She says she's afraid it's infernally she's hurt."
A faint 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 autymobile!--but I don't
guess Miss Polly'd be usin' that word, all the same."
"Eh? Well, I don't know, I don't know," moaned Nancy, with a
shake of her head as she turned away. "Seems as if I jest
couldn't stand it till that doctor gits out o' there. I wish I
had a washin' ter do--the biggest washin' 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
bones broken, 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 whiter 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 her
kitchen.
It was sometime during the next forenoon that Pollyanna 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 the pillow, after an ineffectual 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
Pollyanna's eyes.
The young woman nodded.
"Tell her," the lips 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--I ran." Pollyanna'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--just rest."
"But, Aunt Polly, I feel so funny, and so bad! My legs feel
so--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 to ask you to swallow these little white pills for me."
Pollyanna'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 go to school. Can't I go to school
to-morrow?"
From the window where Aunt Polly stood now there came a
half-stifled cry.
"To-morrow?" smiled the nurse, brightly.
Well, I may not let you out quite so soon as that, Miss
Pollyanna. But just swallow these little pills for me, please,
and we'll see what THEY'LL do."
"All right," agreed Pollyanna, somewhat doubtfully; "but I MUST
go to school day after to-morrow--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 little
white pills she had swallowed.