But to-day her heart was too heavy to, rejoice at anything.
She scarcely even looked about her at all, indeed, during the few minutes, she waited for Mr.John Pendleton to appear.
"I'm Nancy, sir," she said respectfully, in response to the surprised questioning of his eyes, when he came into the room.

"Miss Harrington sent me to tell you about--Miss Pollyanna." "Well ?" In spite of the curt terseness of the word, Nancy quite understood the anxiety that lay behind that short "well ?" "It ain't well, Mr.Pendleton," she choked.
"You don't mean--" He paused, and she bowed her head miserably.
"Yes, sir.

He says--she can't walk again--never." For a moment there was absolute silence in the room; then the man spoke, in a voice shaken with emotion.
"Poor--little--girl! Poor--little--girl!" Nancy glanced at him, but dropped her eyes at once.

She had not supposed that sour, cross, stern John Pendleton could look like that.

In a moment he spoke again, still in the low, unsteady voice.
"It seems cruel--never to dance in the sunshine again! My little prism girl!" There was another silence; then, abruptly, the man asked: "She herself doesn't know yet--of course--does she ?" "But she does, sir." sobbed Nancy, "an' that's what makes it all the harder.