CHAPTER XXVIII
THE GAME AND ITS PLAYERS
It was not long after John Pendleton's second visit that Milly Snow called one afternoon. Milly Snow had never before been to the Harrington homestead. She blushed and looked very embarrassed when Miss Polly entered the room.
"I—I came to inquire for the little girl," she stammered.
"You are very kind. She is about the same. How is your mother?" rejoined Miss Polly, wearily.
"That is what I came to tell you—that is, to ask you to tell Miss Pollyanna," hurried on the girl, breathlessly and incoherently. "We think it's—so awful—so perfectly awful that the little thing can't ever walk again; and after all she's done for us, too—for mother, you know, teaching her to play the game, and all that. And when we heard how now she couldn't play it herself—poor little dear! I'm sure I don't see how she can, either, in her condition!—but when we remembered all the things she'd said to us, we thought if she could
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