POLLYANNA AND PUNISHMENTS
Pollyanna laughed.
"Well, anyhow," she chuckled, "you can be glad it isn't 'Hephzibah.'"
"Hephzibah!"
"Yes. Mrs. White's name is that. Her husband calls her 'Hep,' and she doesn't like it. She says when he calls out 'Hep—Hep!' she feels just as if the next minute he was going to yell 'Hurrah!' And she doesn't like to be hurrahed at."
Nancy's gloomy face relaxed into a broad smile.
"Well, if you don't beat the Dutch! Say, do you know?—I sha'n't never hear 'Nancy' now that I don't think o' that 'Hep—Hep!' and giggle. My, I guess I am glad—" She stopped short and turned amazed eyes on the little girl. "Say, Miss Pollyanna, do you mean—was you playin' that 'ere game then—about my bein' glad I wa'n't named 'Hephzibah'?"
Pollyanna frowned; then she laughed.
"Why, Nancy, that's so! I was playing the game—but that's one of the times I just did it without thinking, I reckon. You see, you do, lots of times; you get so used to it—looking for something to be glad about, you know. And most generally there is something about everything that you can be glad about, if you keep hunting long enough to find it."
"Well, m-maybe," granted Nancy, with open doubt.
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