e my word for it, 'tain't best." And again he bent his old head
to the work before him.

"Nancy!" called a sharp voice.

"Y-yes, ma'am," stammered Nancy; and hurried toward the house.

CHAPTER III. THE COMING OF POLLYANNA

In due time came the telegram announcing that Pollyanna would arrive in
Beldingsville the next day, the twenty-fifth of June, at four o'clock.
Miss Polly read the telegram, frowned, then climbed the stairs to the
attic room. She still frowned as she looked about her.

The room contained a small bed, neatly made, two straight-backed chairs,
a washstand, a bureau--without any mirror--and a small table. There were
no drapery curtains at the dormer windows, no pictures on the wall. All
day the sun had been pouring down upon the roof, and the little room
was like an oven for heat. As there were no screens, the windows had not
been raised. A big fly was buzzing angrily at one of them now, up and
down, up and down, trying to get out.

Miss Polly killed the fly, swept it through the window (raising the sash
an inch for the purpose), straightened a chair, frowned again, and left
the room.

"Nancy," she said a few minutes later, at the kitchen door, "I found a
fly up-stairs in Miss Pollyanna's room. The window must have been raised
at some time. I have ordered screens, but until they come I shall
expect you to see that the windows remain closed. My niece will arrive
to-morrow at four o'clock. I desire you to meet her at the station.
Timothy will take the open buggy and drive you over. The telegram says
'light hair, red-checked gingham dress, and straw hat.' That is all I
know, but I think it is sufficient for your purpose."

"Yes, ma'am; but--you--"

Miss Polly evidently read the pause aright, for she frowned and said
crisply:

"No, I shall not go. It is not necessary that I should, I think. That is
all." And she turned away--Miss Polly's arrangements for the comfort of
her niece, Pollyanna, were complete.

In the kitchen, Nancy sent her flatiron with a vicious dig across the
dish-towel she was ironing.

"'Light hair, red-checked gingham dress, and straw hat'--all she knows,
indeed! Well, I'd be ashamed ter own it up, that I would, I would--and
her my onliest niece what was a-comin' from 'way across the continent!"

Promptly at twenty minutes to four the next afternoon Timothy and Nancy
drove off in the open buggy to meet the expected guest. Timothy was Old
Tom's son. It was sometimes said i