“To-morrow?” smiled the nurse, brightly.
“Well, I may not let you out quite so soon as that, Miss Pollyanna. But just swallow these little pills for me, please, and we'll see what THEY'LL do.”
“All right,” agreed Pollyanna, somewhat doubtfully; “but I MUST go to school day after to-morrow—there are examinations then, you know.”
She spoke again, a minute later. She spoke of school, and of the automobile, and of how her head ached; but very soon her voice trailed into silence under the blessed influence of the little white pills she had swallowed.
CHAPTER XXIV. JOHN PENDLETON
Pollyanna did not go to school “to-morrow,” nor the “day after to-morrow.” Pollyanna, however, did not realize this, except momentarily when a brief period of full consciousness sent insistent questions to her lips. Pollyanna did not realize anything, in fact, very clearly until a week had passed; then the fever subsided, the pain lessened somewhat, and her mind awoke to full consciousness. She had then to be told all over again what had occurred.
“And so it's hurt that I am, and not sick,” she sighed at last. “Well, I'm glad of that.”
“G-glad, Pollyanna?” asked her aunt, who was sitting by the bed.
“Yes. I'd so much rather have broken legs like Mr. Pendleton's than life-long-invalids like Mrs. Snow, you know. Broken legs get well, and lifelong-invalids don't.”