Поллианна

УДК 
372.8

ББК 
81.2 Англ-93

П60

ISBN 978-5-9925-1113-0

 
Портер, Элинор.

П60 
Поллианна : книга для чтения на английском 

языке. — Санкт-Петербург : КАРО, 2017. — 256 с. — 
(Classical Literature).

ISBN 978-5-9925-1113-0.

Элинор Портер (1868–1920) — американская детская писа
тельница. Предлагаем вниманию читателей ее книгу-бестселлер 
«Поллианна», знакомую читателям во всем мире.

Книга адресована всем любителям англоязычной литера
туры.

УДК 372.8

ББК 81.2 Англ-93

© КАРО, 2016

Chapter I

MIss Polly

Miss Polly Harrington entered her kitchen a little hur
riedly this June morning. Miss Polly did not usually make 
hurried movements; she specially prided herself on her 
repose of manner. But to-day she was hurrying — actually hurrying.

Nancy, washing dishes at the sink, looked up in sur
prise. Nancy had been working in 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 stern 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 composure1.

1 which did not add to her composure — (разг.) что не до
бавляло ей спокойствия

To My Cousin Belle

CHaPTer I

4

“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 mornin’ 
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 wonder
ing 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 Corners,” six miles 
away, and she knew Miss Polly 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 stern, 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 clear 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?”

MISS PollY

“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 Corners.”

“Nice? Well, that isn’t exactly the word I should use,” 

rejoined Miss Polly, stiffly. “However, I intend to make 
the best of it1, 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 she 
must 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 

1 to make the best of it — (разг.) не ударить лицом в грязь

CHaPTer I

6

hope I know my duty. See that you clean the corners, 
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 let
ter which she had received two days before from the far-away 
Western town, and which had been so unpleasant a surprise 
to her1. The letter was addressed to Miss Polly Harrington, 
Beldingsville, Vermont; and it read as follows:

“Dear Madam:
— I regret to inform you that the Rev. 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 meagre salary.

“I believe he was your deceased sister’s husband, 

but he gave me to understand the families were not 
on the best of terms2. 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 

1 which had been so unpleasant a surprise to her — (разг.) 

которое явилось для нее неприятным сюрпризом

2 were not on the best of terms — (разг.) не очень ладили

MISS PollY

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 East very soon, and they 
would take her with them to Boston, and put her 
on the Beldingsville train. Of course you would be 
notified what day and train to expect Pollyanna on.

“Hoping to hear favorably from you soon, 

I remain,

“Respectfully yours,
“Jeremiah O. White.”

With a frown Miss Polly folded the letter and tucked 

it into its envelope. She had answered it the day before, 
and she had said she would take the child, of course. She 
HoPeD she knew her duty well enough for that! — disagreeable as the task would be.

as she sat now, with the letter in her hands, her 

thoughts went back to her sister, Jennie, who had been 
this child’s mother, and to the time when Jennie, as a girl 
of twenty, had insisted upon marrying the young minister, in spite of her family’s remonstrances. There had been 
a man of wealth who had wanted her — and the family 
had much preferred him to the minister; but Jennie had 
not. The man of wealth had more years1, as well as more 
money, to his credit2, while the minister had only a young 
head full of youth’s ideals and enthusiasm, and a heart 

1 had more years — (уст.) был гораздо старше
2 to his credit — (разг.) что тоже говорило в его пользу

CHaPTer I

8

full of love. Jennie had preferred these — quite naturally, perhaps; so she had married the minister, and had gone 
south with him as a home missionary’s wife.

The break had come then. Miss Polly remembered it 

well, though she had been but a girl of fifteen, the youngest, at the time. The family had had little more to do with 
the missionary’s wife. To be sure, Jennie herself had written, for a time, and had named her last baby “Pollyanna” 
for her two sisters, Polly and anna — the other babies 
had all died. This had been the last time that Jennie had 
written; and in a few years there had come the news of 
her death, told in a short, but heart-broken little note from 
the minister himself, dated at a little town in the West.

Meanwhile, time had not stood still for the occupants 

of the great house on the hill. Miss Polly, looking out at 
the far-reaching valley below, thought of the changes 
those twenty-five years had brought to her.

She was forty now, and quite alone in the world. 

Father, mother, sisters — all were dead. For years, now, 
she had been sole mistress of the house and of the thousands left her by her father. There were people who had 
openly pitied her lonely life, and who had urged her to 
have some friend or companion to live with her; but she 
had not welcomed either their sympathy or their advice1. 
She was not lonely, she said. She liked being by herself. 
She preferred quiet. But now — 

1 but she had not welcomed either their sympathy or their 

advice — (разг.) ей не нужны были их сочувствие и советы

olD ToM aND NaNCY

Miss Polly rose with frowning face and closely
shut lips. She was glad, of course, that she was a good 
woman, and that she not only knew her duty, but had 
suffici ent strength of character to perform it. But — 
PollYaNNa! — what a ridiculous name!

Chapter II

old ToM and nanCy

In the little attic room Nancy swept and scrubbed vig
orously, paying particular attention to the corners. There 
were times, indeed, when the vigor she put into her work 
was more of a relief to her feelings than it was an ardor 
to efface dirt — Nancy, in spite of her frightened submission to her mistress, was no saint.

“I — just — wish — I could — dig — out the corners — 

of — her — soul!” she muttered jerkily, punctuating her 
words with murderous jabs of her pointed cleaning-stick. 
“There’s plenty of ’em needs cleanin’ all right, all right! The 
idea of stickin’ that blessed child ’way off up here in this hot 
little room — with no fire in the winter, too, and all this big 
house ter pick and choose from1! Unnecessary children, indeed! Humph!” snapped Nancy, wringing her rag so hard 
her fingers ached from the strain; “I guess it ain’t CHIlDreN 
what is MoST unnecessary just now, just now!”

For some time she worked in silence; then, her task 

finished, she looked about the bare little room in plain 
disgust.

1 and all this big house ter pick and choose from — (искаж.) 

а в этом доме достаточно комнат (есть из чего выбрать)

CHaPTer II

10

“Well, it’s done — my part, anyhow,” she sighed. 

“There ain’t no dirt here — and there’s mighty little else. 
Poor little soul! — a pretty place this is ter put a homesick, lonesome child into!” she finished, going out and 
closing the door with a bang, “oh!” she ejaculated, biting 
her lip. Then, doggedly: “Well, I don’t care. I hope she did 
hear the bang, — I do, I do!”

In the garden that afternoon, Nancy found a few min
utes in which to interview old Tom, who had pulled the 
weeds and shovelled the paths about the place for uncounted years.

“Mr. Tom,” began Nancy, throwing a quick glance 

over her shoulder to make sure she was unobserved; “did 
you know a little girl was comin’ here ter live with Miss 
Polly?”

“a — what?” demanded the old man, straightening 

his bent back with difficulty.

“a little girl — to live with Miss Polly.”
“Go on with yer jokin’,” scoffed unbelieving Tom. 

“Why don’t ye tell me the sun is a-goin’ ter set in the east 
ter-morrer?”

“But it’s true. She told me so herself,” maintained 

Nancy. “It’s her niece; and she’s eleven years old.”

The man’s jaw fell.
“Sho! — I wonder, now1,” he muttered; then a tender 

light came into his faded eyes. “It ain’t — but it must be — 
Miss Jennie’s little gal! There wasn’t none of the rest of 

1 I wonder, now — (разг.) вот так штука; вот это интересно