"Oh, that's all right, then. I'm glad I'm EXtraordinary," sighed
Pollyanna, her face clearing. "You see, Mrs. White used to say
Mrs. Rawson was a very ordinary woman--and she disliked Mrs.
Rawson something awful. They were always fight--I mean, father
had--that is, I mean, WE had more trouble keeping peace between
them than we did between any of the rest of the Aiders,"
corrected Pollyanna, a little breathless from her efforts to
steer between the Scylla of her father's past commands in regard
to speaking of church quarrels, and the Charybdis of her aunt's
present commands in regard to speaking of her father.

"Yes, yes; well, never mind," interposed Aunt Polly, a trifle
impatiently. "You do run on so, Pollyanna, and no matter what
we're talking about you always bring up at those Ladies' Aiders!"

"Yes'm," smiled Pollyanna, cheerfully, "I reckon I do, maybe. But
you see they used to bring me up, and--"

"That will do, Pollyanna," interrupted a cold voice. "Now what is
it about this jelly?"

"Nothing, Aunt Polly, truly, that you would mind, I'm sure. You
let me take jelly to HER, so I thought you would to HIM--this
once. You see, broken legs aren't like--like lifelong invalids,
so his won't last forever as Mrs. Snow's does, and she can have
all the rest of the things after just once or twice."

" 'Him'? 'He'? 'Broken leg'? What are you talking about,
Pollyanna?"