“Yes'm; I know I banged 'em—those doors,” she admitted cheerfully. “You see I'd just found out about the room, and I reckon you'd have banged doors if—” Pollyanna stopped short and eyed her aunt with new interest. “Aunt Polly, DID you ever bang doors?”
“I hope—not, Pollyanna!” Miss Polly's voice was properly shocked.
“Why, Aunt Polly, what a shame!” Pollyanna's face expressed only concerned sympathy.
“A shame!” repeated Aunt Polly, too dazed to say more.
“Why, yes. You see, if you'd felt like banging doors you'd have banged 'em, of course; and if you didn't, that must have meant that you weren't ever glad over anything—or you would have banged 'em. You couldn't have helped it. And I'm so sorry you weren't ever glad over anything!”
“PollyANna!” gasped the lady; but Pollyanna was gone, and only the distant bang of the attic-stairway door answered for her. Pollyanna had gone to help Nancy bring down “her things.”
Miss Polly, in the sitting room, felt vaguely disturbed;—but then, of course she HAD been glad—over some things!
CHAPTER XI. INTRODUCING JIMMY
August came. August brought several surprises and some changes—none of which, however, were really a surprise to Nancy. Nancy, since Pollyanna's arrival, had come to look for surprises and changes.