Pollyanna Grows Up by Eleanor H. Porter (best ereader for epub txt) 📕

was not long before Pollyanna reached the edge of the Garden at a corner where two streets crossed. It was a wonderfully interesting corner, with its hurrying cars, automobiles, carriages and pedestrians. A huge red bottle in a drugstore window caught her eye, and from down the street came the sound of a hurdy-gurdy. Hesitating only a moment Pollyanna darted across the corner and skipped lightly down the street toward the entrancing music.

Pollyanna found much to interest her now. In the store windows were marvelous objects, and around the hurdy-gurdy, when she had reached it, she found a dozen dancing children, most fascinating to watch. So altogether delightful, indeed, did this pastime prove to be that Pollyanna followed the hurdy-gurdy for some distance, just to see those children dance. Presently she found herself at a corner so busy that a very big man in a belted blue coat helped the people across the street. For an absorbed minute she watched him in silence; then, a little timidly, she herself started to cross.

It was a wonderful experience. The big, blue-coated man saw her at once and promptly beckoned to her. He even walked to meet her. Then, through a wide lane with puffing motors and impatient horses on either hand, she walked unscathed to the further curb. It gave her a delightful sensation, so delightful that, after a minute, she walked back. Twice again, after short intervals, she trod the fascinating way so magically opened at the lifting of the big man’s hand. But the last time her conductor left her at the curb, he gave a puzzled frown.

“See here, little girl, ain’t you the same one what crossed a minute ago?” he demanded. “And again before that?”

“Yes, sir,” beamed Pollyanna. “I’ve been across four times!”

“Well!” the officer began to bluster; but Pollyanna was still talking.

“And it’s been nicer every time!”

“Oh-h, it has⁠—has it?” mumbled the big man, lamely. Then, with a little more spirit he sputtered: “What do you think I’m here for⁠—just to tote you back and forth?”

“Oh, no, sir,” dimpled Pollyanna. “Of course you aren’t just for me! There are all these others. I know what you are. You’re a policeman. We’ve got one of you out where I live at Mrs. Carew’s, only he’s the kind that just walks on the sidewalk, you know. I used to think you were soldiers, on account of your gold buttons and blue hats; but I know better now. Only I think you are a kind of a soldier, ’cause you’re so brave⁠—standing here like this, right in the middle of all these teams and automobiles, helping folks across.”

“Ho⁠—ho! Brrrr!” spluttered the big man, coloring like a schoolboy and throwing back his head with a hearty laugh. “Ho⁠—ho! Just as if⁠—” He broke off with a quick lifting of his hand. The next moment he was escorting a plainly very much frightened little old lady from curb to curb. If his step were a bit more pompous, and his chest a bit more full, it must have been only an unconscious tribute to the watching eyes of the little girl back at the starting-point. A moment later, with a haughtily permissive wave of his hand toward the chafing drivers and chauffeurs, he strolled back to Pollyanna.

“Oh, that was splendid!” she greeted him, with shining eyes. “I love to see you do it⁠—and it’s just like the Children of Israel crossing the Red Sea, isn’t it?⁠—with you holding back the waves for the people to cross. And how glad you must be all the time, that you can do it! I used to think being a doctor was the very gladdest business there was, but I reckon, after all, being a policeman is gladder yet⁠—to help frightened people like this, you know. And⁠—” But with another “Brrrr!” and an embarrassed laugh, the big blue-coated man was back in the middle of the street, and Pollyanna was all alone on the curbstone.

For only a minute longer did Pollyanna watch her fascinating “Red Sea,” then, with a regretful backward glance, she turned away.

“I reckon maybe I’d better be going home now,” she meditated. “It must be ’most dinner time.” And briskly she started to walk back by the way she had come.

Not until she had hesitated at several corners, and unwittingly made two false turns, did Pollyanna grasp the fact that “going back home” was not to be so easy as she had thought it to be. And not until she came to a building which she knew she had never seen before, did she fully realize that she had lost her way.

She was on a narrow street, dirty, and ill-paved. Dingy tenement blocks and a few unattractive stores were on either side. All about were jabbering men and chattering women⁠—though not one word of what they said could Pollyanna understand. Moreover, she could not help seeing that the people looked at her very curiously, as if they knew she did not belong there.

Several times, already, she had asked her way, but in vain. No one seemed to know where Mrs. Carew lived; and, the last two times, those addressed had answered with a gesture and a jumble of words which Pollyanna, after some thought, decided must be “Dutch,” the kind the Haggermans⁠—the only foreign family in Beldingsville⁠—used.

On and on, down one street and up another, Pollyanna trudged. She was thoroughly frightened now. She was hungry, too, and very tired. Her feet ached, and her eyes smarted with the tears she was trying so hard to hold back. Worse yet, it was unmistakably beginning to grow dark.

“Well, anyhow,” she choked to herself, “I’m going to be glad I’m lost, ’cause it’ll be so nice when I get found. I can be glad for that!”

It was at a noisy corner where two broader streets crossed that Pollyanna finally came to a dismayed stop. This time the tears quite overflowed, so that, lacking a handkerchief, she had to use the backs of both hands to wipe them away.

“Hullo,