POLLYANNA
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
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