Eleanor H. Porter 
Pollyanna Grows Up 

Whilst the greatest effort has been made to ensure the quality of this text, due to the historical nature of this content, in some rare cases there may be minor issues with legibility. I fancy I must have said something that showed my surprise, for she explained earnestly: Oh, yes, I used to feel that way, too, and I did dread it so, till I happened to think ’twas just like Nancy’s wash-days, and I could be gladdest of all on Tuesdays, ‘cause there wouldn’t be another one for a whole week.’ Why, how extraordinary! Frowned Mrs. Carew, not quite comprehending. But, I’m sure I don’t see any game to that. No, I didn’t, till later. Then She told me. It seems she was the motherless daughter of a poor min ister in the West, and was brought up by the Ladies’ Aid Society and missionary barrels. When she was a tiny girl She wanted a doll, and confidently expected it in the next barrel; but there turned out to be noth ing but a pair Of little crutches.