You wouldn't be glad for black hair nor anything else--if you had to lie here all day as I do!" Pollyanna bent her brows in a thoughtful frown.
"Why, 'twould be kind of hard--to do it then, wouldn't it ?" she mused aloud.
"Do what ?" "Be glad about things." "Be glad about things--when you're sick in bed all your days?
Well, I should say it would," retorted Mrs.Snow.

"If you don't think so, just tell me something to be glad about; that's all!" To Mrs.Snow's unbounded amazement, Pollyanna sprang to her feet and clapped her hands.
"Oh, goody! That'll be a hard one--won't it?
I've got to go, now, but I'll think and think all the way home; and maybe the next time I come I can tell it to you.

Good-by.

I've had a lovely time! Good-by," she called again, as she tripped through the doorway.
"Well, I never! Now, what does she mean by that ?" ejaculated Mrs.Snow, staring after her visitor.

By and by she turned her head and picked up the mirror, eyeing her reflection critically.
"That little thing HAS got a knack with hair and no mistake," she muttered under her breath.