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Narrated by LibriVox Community
Eleanor H. Porter— 2 hours, 20 minutes
Narrated by LibriVox Community
Eleanor H. Porter— 2 hours, 20 minutes
Pollyanna tells the story of Pollyanna Whittier, a young girl who goes to live with her wealthy Aunt Polly after her father's death. Pollyanna's philosophy of life centers around what she calls "The Glad Game": she always tries to find something to be glad about in every situation, and to always do without delay whatever she thinks is right. With this philosophy, and her own sunny personality, she brings so much gladness to her aunt's dispirited New England town that she transforms it into a pleasant, healthy place to live. Eventually, however, even Pollyanna's robust optimism is put to the test when she loses the use of her legs in an accident. (written by Mary Anderson)
The book is full of tears and laughter.”
"The classic tale of a glad-hearted little orphan girl whose positive take on the most adverse circumstance is a lesson for us all." - Sunday Times
Pollyanna Whittier, eager and spontaneous, couldn’t be more different from her cool and imperious Aunt Polly. But worlds are turned upside down, all for the good, in this classic story of the orphan who comes to live with her aunt, changing those around her with her optimistic “glad game.” Exuberant cast members bring immediacy to the dramatization. Gayle Hunnicutt as Aunt Polly cuts a formidable figure, maid Nancy is animated, and Phoebe Sterling as Pollyanna has the spunk to charm both the spinster and a lonely old man. The fade-ins and fade-outs of scenes are reminiscent of radio broadcasts and add a modicum of mystery. The pace is brisk and well suited to the intrigue of Porter's story. A.R. © AudioFile 2008, Portland, Maine
| BN ID: | 2940169130935 |
|---|---|
| Publisher: | LibriVox |
| Publication date: | 08/25/2014 |
| Sales rank: | 561,587 |
Miss Polly Harrington entered her kitchen a little hurriedly this June morning. Miss Polly did not usually make hurried movements; she specially prided herself on her repose of manner. But today she was hurrying actually hurrying.
Nancy, washing dishes at the sink, looked up in surprise. Nancy had been working for Miss Polly's kitchen only two months, but already she knew that her mistress did not usually hurry.
"Nancy!"
"Yes, ma'am." Nancy answered cheerfully, but she still continued wiping the pitcher in her hand.
"Nancy" -- Miss Polly's voice was very stem now"when I'm talking to you, I wish you to stop your work and listen to what I have to say."
Nancy flushed miserably. She set the pitcher down at once, with the cloth still about it, thereby nearly tipping it over-which did not add to her composure.
"Yes, ma'am. I will, ma'am," she stammered, righting the pitcher, and turning hastily. "I was only keepin' on with my work 'cause you specially told me this momin' ter hurry with my dishes, ye know."
Her mistress frowned.
"That will do, Nancy. I did not ask for explanations. I asked for your attention."
"Yes, ma'am." Nancy stifled a sigh. She was wondering if ever in any way she could please this woman. Nancy had never "worked out" before. But a sick mother, suddenly widowed and left with three younger children besides Nancy herself, had forced the girl into doing something toward their support, and she had been so pleased when she found a place in the kitchen of the great house on the hill -- Nancy had come from "The Comers," six miles away, and she knew MissPolly Harrington only as the mistress of the old Harrington homestead, and one of the wealthiest residents of the town. That was two months before. She knew Miss Polly now as a stem, severe-faced woman who frowned if a knife clattered to the floor, or if a door banged-but who never thought to smile even when knives and doors were still.
"When you've finished your morning work, Nancy," Miss Polly was saying now, "you may dear the little room at the head of the stairs in the attic, and make up the cot bed. Sweep the room and clean it, of course, after you clear out the trunks and boxes."
"Yes, ma'am. And where shall I put the things, please, that I take out?"
"In the front attic." Miss Polly hesitated, then went on: "I suppose I may as well tell you now, Nancy. My niece, Miss Pollyanna Whittier, is coming to live with me. She is eleven years old, and will sleep in that room."
"A little girl -- coming here, Miss Harrington? Oh, won't that be nice!" cried Nancy, thinking of the sunshine her own little sisters made in the home at "The Comers."
"Nice? Well, that isn't exactly the word I should use," rejoined Miss Polly stiffly. "However, I intend to make the best of it, of course. I am a good woman, I hope, and I know my duty"
Nancy colored hotly,
"Of course, ma'am. It was only that I thought a little girl here might-might brighten things up-for you, " she faltered.
,,"Thank you," rejoined the lady dryly. "I can't say, however, that I see any immediate need for that."
"But, of course, you-you'd want her, your sister's
child," ventured Nancy, vaguely feeling that somehow shemust prepare a welcome for this lonely little stranger.
Miss Polly lifted her chin haughtily.
"Well, really, Nancy, just because I happened to have a sister who was silly enough to marry and bring unnecessary children into a world that was already quite full enough, I can't see how I should particularly want to have the care of them myself. However, as I said before, I hope I know my duty. See that you clean the comers, Nancy," she finished sharply, as she left the room.
"Yes, ma'am," sighed Nancy, picking up the half-dried pitcher-now so cold it must be rinsed again.
In her own room Miss Polly took out once more the letter which she had received two days before from the faraway Western town, and which had been so unpleasant a surprise to her. The letter was addressed to Miss Polly Harrington, Beldingsville, Vermont, and it read as follows:
"Dear Madam: I regret to inform you that the Reverend John Whittier died two weeks ago, leaving one child, a girl eleven years old. He left practically nothing else save a few books; for, as you doubtless know, he was the pastor of this small mission church, and had a very meager salary.
"I believe he was your deceased sister's husband, but he gave me to understand the families were not on the best of terms. He thought, however, that for your sister's sake you might wish to take the child and bring her up among her own people in the East. Hence I am writing to you.
"The little girl will be all ready to start by the time you get this letter; and if you can take her, we would appreciate it very much if you would write that she might come at once, as there is a man and his wife here who are going...
Pollyanna Book and Charm. Copyright © by Eleanor Porter. Reprinted by permission of HarperCollins Publishers, Inc. All rights reserved. Available now wherever books are sold.
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