You see, you DO, lots of times; you get so used to it--looking for something to be glad about, you know.

And most generally there is something about everything that you can be glad about, if you keep hunting long enough to find it." "Well, m-maybe," granted Nancy, with open doubt.
At half-past eight Pollyanna went up to bed.

The screens had not yet come, and the close little room was like an oven.

With longing eyes Pollyanna looked at the two fast-closed windows--but she did not raise them.

She undressed, folded her clothes neatly, said her prayers, blew out her candle and climbed into bed.
Just how long she lay in sleepless misery, tossing from side to side of the hot little cot, she did not know; but it seemed to her that it must have been hours before she finally slipped out of bed, felt her way across the room and opened her door.
Out in the main attic all was velvet blackness save where the moon flung a path of silver half-way across the floor from the east dormer window.
With a resolute ignoring of that fearsome darkness to the right and to the left, Pollyanna drew a quick breath and pattered straight into that silvery path, and on to the window.
She had hoped, vaguely, that this window might have a screen, but it did not.