It was when Timothy was unloading the trunk that Nancy found an opportunity to mutter low in his ear:
“Don't you never say nothin' ter me again about leavin', Timothy Durgin. You couldn't HIRE me ter leave!”
“Leave! I should say not,” grinned the youth.
“You couldn't drag me away. It'll be more fun here now, with that kid 'round, than movin'-picture shows, every day!”
“Fun!—fun!” repeated Nancy, indignantly, “I guess it'll be somethin' more than fun for that blessed child—when them two tries ter live tergether; and I guess she'll be a-needin' some rock ter fly to for refuge. Well, I'm a-goin' ter be that rock, Timothy; I am, I am!” she vowed, as she turned and led Pollyanna up the broad steps.
CHAPTER IV. THE LITTLE ATTIC ROOM
Miss Polly Harrington did not rise to meet her niece. She looked up from her book, it is true, as Nancy and the little girl appeared in the sitting-room doorway, and she held out a hand with “duty” written large on every coldly extended finger.
“How do you do, Pollyanna? I—” She had no chance to say more. Pollyanna, had fairly flown across the room and flung herself into her aunt's scandalized, unyielding lap.
“Oh, Aunt Polly, Aunt Polly, I don't know how to be glad enough that you let me come to live with you,” she was sobbing. “You don't know how perfectly lovely it is to have you and Nancy and all this after you've had just the Ladies' Aid!”