A SURPRISE FOR MRS. SNOW
couldn't thrash 'round. She said 'twould have been easier if she could have. Can you?"
"Can I—what?"
"Thrash 'round—move, you know, so as to change your position when the music gets too hard to stand."
Mrs. Snow stared a little.
"Why, of course I can move—anywhere—in bed," she rejoined a little irritably.
"Well, you can be glad of that, then, anyhow, can't you?" nodded Pollyanna. "Mrs. White couldn't. You can't thrash when you have rheumatic fever—though you want to something awful, Mrs. White says. She told me afterwards she reckoned she'd have gone raving crazy if it hadn't been for Mr. White's sister's ears—being deaf, so."
"Sister's—ears! What do you mean?"
Pollyanna laughed.
"Well, I reckon I didn't tell it all, and I forgot you didn't know Mrs. White. You see, Miss White was deaf—awfully deaf; and she came to visit 'em and to help take care of Mrs. White and the house. Well, they had such an awful time making her understand anything, that after that, every time the piano commenced to play across the street, Mrs. White felt so glad she could hear it, that she didn't mind so much that she did hear it, 'cause she couldn't help thinking how awful 'twould be if she
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