“No, Miss. Your aunt doesn’t like ice-cream.”

Pollyanna’s face fell.[15]

“Oh, doesn’t she? I’m so sorry! Maybe Aunt Polly has got the carpets, though.”

“Yes, she’s got the carpets.”

“In every room?”

“Well, in almost every room,” answered Nancy, thinking about the attic room where there was no carpet.

“Oh, I’m so glad,” exulted Pollyanna. “I love carpets. And Mrs. White had pictures, too, perfectly beautiful ones of roses and little girls kneeling and a kitty and some lambs and a lion. Don’t you just love pictures?”

“I don’t know,” answered Nancy.

“I do. But we didn’t have any pictures. My![16] but isn’t this a perfectly beautiful house?” she broke off.

Miss Polly Harrington did not rise to meet her niece.

“How do you do, Pollyanna? I – ”.

“Oh, Aunt Polly, Aunt Polly, I don’t know how to be glad enough that you let me come to live with you,” she was sobbing. “You don’t know how perfectly lovely it is to have you and Nancy and all this!”

“Nancy, you may go,” Aunt Polly said.

“We will go upstairs to your room, Pollyanna. Your trunk is already there, I presume. I told Timothy to take it up – if you had one. You may follow me.”

Without speaking, Pollyanna turned and followed her aunt from the room. Her eyes were filled with tears, but her chin was bravely high.

She was on the stairway now.

“Oh, Aunt Polly, Aunt Polly,” breathed the little girl; “what a perfectly lovely, lovely house! How awfully glad you must be you’re so rich!”

“PollyANNA!” ejaculated her aunt. “I’m surprised at you – making a speech like that to me!”

“Why, Aunt Polly, AREN’T you?” asked Pollyanna, in wonder.

“Certainly not, Pollyanna. How can I be proud of any gift the Lord has sent me?[17]” declared the lady.

Miss Polly turned and walked down the hall toward the attic stairway door. At the top of the stairs there were innumerable trunks and boxes. It was hot. Pollyanna lifted her head higher – it seemed so hard to breathe. Then she saw that her aunt threw open a door at the right.

“There, Pollyanna, here is your room, and your trunk is here. Do you have your key?”

Pollyanna nodded. Her eyes were a little wide and frightened.

Her aunt frowned.

“When I ask a question, Pollyanna, I prefer that you should answer aloud not merely with your head.”

“Yes, Aunt Polly.”

“Thank you; that is better. I believe you have everything that you need here,” she added. “I will send Nancy to help you unpack your truck. Supper is at six o’clock,” she finished and left the room.

For a moment Pollyanna stood quite still. Then she turned her wide eyes to the bare wall, the bare floor, the bare windows and fell on her knees, covering her face with her hands.

Nancy found her there when she came up a few minutes later.

“There, there, you, poor lamb,[18]” she crooned, drawing the little girl into her arms.

“Oh, Nancy, I’m so wicked,” she sobbed. “I just can’t understand why God and the angels need my father more than I do.”

“There, there, child, let’s have your key and we’ll get inside this trunk and take out your dresses.”

Pollyanna produced the key.

“There aren’t very many there,” she faltered.

“Then they’re all soon be unpacked,” declared Nancy.

“It’s such a nice room! Don’t you think so?” Pollyanna stammered.

There was no answer. Nancy was very busy with the trunk.

“And I can be glad there isn’t any looking-glass here, too, because where there ISN’T any glass I can’t see my freckles.”

A few minutes later, Pollyanna clapped her hands joyously.

“Oh, Nancy, look at these trees and the houses and that lovely church spire, and the river. Oh, I’m so glad now she let me have this room!”