at the gate of the shabby little cottage. Her eyes were quite
sparkling, indeed, at the prospect of meeting this "different"
Mrs. Snow.

A pale-faced, tired-looking young girl answered her knock at the
door.

"How do you do?" began Pollyanna politely. "I'm from Miss Polly
Harrington, and I'd like to see Mrs. Snow, please."

"Well, if you would, you're the first one that ever 'liked' to
see her," muttered the girl under her breath; but Pollyanna did
not hear this. The girl had turned and was leading the way
through the hall to a door at the end of it.

In the sick-room, after the girl had ushered her in and closed
the door, Pollyanna blinked a little before she could accustom
her eyes to the gloom. Then she saw, dimly outlined, a woman
half-sitting up in the bed across the room. Pollyanna advanced at
once.

"How do you do, Mrs. Snow? Aunt Polly says she hopes you are
comfortable to-day, and she's sent you some calf's-foot jelly."

"Dear me! jelly?" murmured a fretful voice,

"Of course I'm very much obliged, but I was hoping 'twould be
lamb broth to-day."

Pollyanna frowned a little.