Лилианна. Искусство прельщения

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Content

Preface. When children become adults...

Part I. The appearance of the "presence of a child "in the house"...

Part II. Life in the at-tic...

Part Ш. Overnight on the portko-sher...

Part IV. The Stranger...

Part V. Fluffy, Buffy and Jimmy Bean...

Part VI. Accident...

Epilogue...


Preface.
When children become adults…
As long as such girls appear, life on Earth will not stop. The adven-turous story of an orphan, taken into the family by her aunt out of a" sense of duty", a girl who knows how to enjoy the sun and light under any circumstances, which helps to live not only for herself, but also for the people around her, this story is a real detective, and psychologically accurate and fascinating for readers of any age who have not forgotten what they themselves were in childhood. This fabulous story has its predecessor-a book called "Pollyanna" first published in 1912 by the famous American writer Eleanor Porter (1868-1920), but the adven-tures of a girl with a strange name Pollyanna are still dear and close to young readers around the world. Eleanor Porter was born in New Hampshire, and they arrived on the Mayflower. Since childhood, Elea-nor adored music, and everyone thought that she would become a sing-er. Having received a musical education in Boston, she sang in church and secular choirs, and only after getting married, she left music. The family moves to New York. There she begins to write, from under her pen, one after another, collections of short stories are published and soon the first novel "Crossing the Stream". The liveliness of the charac-ters and situations attracts the attention of readers, but "Pollyanna" still brought the young writer a certain fame. Eleanor was writing a book in the garden, laid out right on the roof of a New York house, she could not have dreamed of a better office. There is something to think about here… The story of an amazing girl has been filmed many times in dif-ferent countries; one of the performers of the main role was Mary Pick-ford. Lilianna is closer to us in time and way of thinking, but she has the same character, except that she is a little more “crazy”, compared to her older predecessor, the still prudent Pollyanna
Part 1.
The appearance of the "presence of a child" in the house
On a warm summer morning, Miss Polly Harrington entered the kitchen with an almost impetuous gait, which was so strange for the always unhurried and miss that the maid froze in place with a plate in her hands from amazement. She has been working in Miss Polly's kitchen for only two months, but this is the first time she sees the hostess like this. Miss Polly said loudly,
"Nancy!”
"Yes, ma'am," Nancy said politely, trying to wash the dishes.
"Nancy —" Miss Polly's voice sounded even stricter this time, "I would like you to stop working when I talk to you and listen carefully.
Nancy blushed. She quickly put the dishes on the table, but the towel with which she began to carefully wipe the jug caught on the handle and the jug almost fell on the floor. Nancy was embarrassed and blushed even more.
"You're quite right, ma'am... of course, ma'am," she said, catching the jug in the air, barely audibly. — I wanted to finish the dishes faster. Af-ter all, you yourself told me to do everything as soon as possible... the
Hostess was frowning more and more.
“Nancy. I didn't ask you to explain anything. I just want you to always listen to me carefully”.
“I'm listening, Mom”.
"I will never please this strict woman in my life!" she thought ruefully. Nancy had never dreamed of such a share before – to be a servant. However, suddenly widowed, her mother fell ill from grief and she had to feed the family, in which there were three more babies. When Nancy got a job in the kitchen in a big House on a hill, she was very happy.
Nancy and her family lived in a place called Corner, six miles from the House on the Hill, and the only thing the girl knew about the owner of the House, Miss Polly Harrington, was that she was the sole owner of a large estate and was one of the wealthiest residents of the city. Nancy had gotten to know Miss Harrington quite well in two months. The hostess turned out to be a pedantic person with a stern face and a strict look. She frowned at any disorder, whether it was the sound of a knife falling on the floor, or the slamming of a door, as if a tragic story could really happen from these sounds. But even when there was absolutely no trouble with knives, doors and other utensils in the House on the Hill, Miss Polly remained strict and ready to reprimand or reprimand at any moment.
“When you've finished your morning's work, — she said, looking in-tently at the jug as if it was about to fall to the floor again,  —  sort out the little room in the attic. Pull out all the chests and drawers, sweep the cobwebs in the corners, wash the floor properly and put the bed against the wall, it stands folded at the entrance to the attic.
"Very well, ma'am. But where should I put everything that I pull out?”
“Move it to another part of the attic… — Miss Polly thought for a mo-ment, then said: I think, Nancy, it's better to tell everything right away. My niece, Miss Lilianna Whittier, is coming here. She's eleven years old, Nancy. She will sleep in this room”.
"In the attic? Oh, Miss Harrington! A girl is coming here! That's good?”  — Nancy babbled in delight. She already knew how much joy there was in the house from younger sisters.
“All right?  — Miss Polly snapped. — I wouldn't say that. Of course, I will do everything that depends on me for her. I hope I have enough sense of duty and kindness," — she softened under Nancy's surprised look.
Nancy blushed again, her cheeks turned crimson.
"Of course, ma'am. I just wanted to say that the child in the house will probably be a joy for everyone”.
"Thank you for your kind words, my dear, — Miss Polly said in a completely icy voice, pursing her lips, — but I don't think so, should there be anything else in my life? I have everything, and I am quite sat-isfied with it”.
"You wanted her to come here," — Nancy persisted. She already felt that if she did not try now, the little stranger would hardly meet a warm welcome here. And she will be left without a girlfriend.
Miss Polly lifted her chin and gave the maid a haughty look.
"Really, little Nancy. I don't know why, just because my sister was stu-pid enough to get married and give a child to a world in which, in my opinion, there are already too many people… And half would be enough ... no, even a quarter would be enough for the eyes! Why, I ask you, should I want to raise someone in my home because of this? No, my dear, it's not about what I want and what I don't want. Of course, I don't want this, but... however, unlike many others, I have a very de-veloped sense of duty. And I feel responsible for everything that hap-pens in this crazy world. If I don't do it, who else will do it? Do you understand me? So, I want to remind you again, Nancy: clean the room properly and don't forget to sweep the corners well, " Miss Polly fin-ished in a not yet so solemn tone, and, turning abruptly, left the kitchen with her back absolutely straight and even raising her arm, as if she were carrying her body like a statue of Liberty with a torch inside”.
"Yes, ma'am, you are very noble," Nancy whispered, bowing after her, then, with a sigh, she took up the dishes again.
Returning to her room, Miss Polly picked up a letter, which brought an unusual confusion to her life. It came from a small town in the Far West. Miss Polly looked at the envelope carefully again, as if she still hoped that the letter was not addressed to her. But the envelope said, "Miss Polly Harrington, Beldingsville, Vermont."
 Miss Polly took out a folded piece of paper. She already knew the text of the letter by heart:

Dear Madam,
I regret to inform you that the Reverend John Wittner passed away two weeks ago. As you probably know, the deceased was a missionary pastor in a small church and received an extremely modest salary. That's why the fortune he left behind is limited to only a few books. Thus, the further fate of his child — a girl of eleven years old — is completely unclear. Mr. John Wittner told me that his wife, who died prematurely, was your sister. But he also made it clear to me that your families did not maintain friendly relations. Despite this, before his death, he expressed the hope that you, in memory of your late sister, will not leave the girl with your care and, taking her to yourself, will give her a proper upbringing.
By the time you receive this letter, the girl will be ready to go on the road, and everything depends on your decision. If it turns out to be positive, we will all be very grateful to you. The only request is not to delay the an-swer in this case. The fact is that a married couple is just going to your region, to whom I could entrust the girl. She would have gone with them to Boston, and then they would have put her on the Beldingsville train. Of course, we will inform you about the date of her arrival and the train number additionally. I very much hope, dear madam, for an early posi-tive response.
Sincerely yours, Jeremiah O. White.

Miss Polly put the letter back in the envelope with a frown. She already sent a reply yesterday, and assured Mr. Jeremiah O. White that, of course, she would take the girl to her. "If a person has such a developed sense of duty as I have," she thought — "it simply cannot do other-wise." Then Miss Polly remembered with annoyance how her twenty-year-old sister Jenny, despite the protests of her parents, insisted on her own and married a young pastor. And after all, a rich man was courting her, and everyone thought that she should choose him, but Jenny did not want to hear about him. The godly bridegroom, from her point of view, was much inferior to the pastor, who was young, careless and poor as a church mouse, but had an ardent heart, and this was the main thing for her. Jenny, without hesitation, preferred youth and love to be-ing in society. In short, she became the wife of a young romantic mis-sionary and without hesitation went with him to the South.
Needless to say, her parents immediately broke off all relations with her. Miss Polly was only fifteen years old at the time, but she remembered the story well. Jenny tried to make peace for some time, and even the only child left alive (her other children died in infancy) was named after her sisters Lily and Anna — Li-lianna. But the letter in which she re-ported this, the relatives did not deign to answer. Jenny didn't write to anyone else. And a few years later, a short note came from a town in the Far West, in which the pastor notified them of the death of his wife.
It must say that time did not spare the inhabitants of the House on the Hill. Looking at the valley below, Miss Polly remembered everything that she had experienced during these twenty-five years. Now she is over forty, and now she is left all alone in this world. Father, mother, sisters-all died. For many years she had been the sole owner of this huge house and a large fortune that her father had bequeathed to her. Two or three acquaintances openly sympathized with her loneliness. Some even advised to put a friend or companion in the house. But Miss Polly insisted that she did not crave society at all, on the contrary, she just liked to live in peace and quiet. And now everything has gone wrong.
Still frowning, with her lips tightly compressed, Miss Polly finally got up from her chair. Of course, she had something to be proud of. She again proved to herself that she has "a sufficiently developed sense of duty and enough character to live according to this feeling." But Lilian-na… It was necessary to guess to give the child such a ridiculous name!
Meanwhile, Nancy was furiously scrubbing and washing the walls and floor in the attic room. She paid special attention to the corners. It was a truly titanic work – the dirt was so easily petrified. But the effort that Nancy put into the work was more indicative of anger than of too much zeal. Yes, yes, it was anger that was raging in her heart, for despite her outward submission and deference to her hostess, Nancy was not such a resigned creature after all.
 “If only I could bring to light all the convolutions of her mind and the corners of her soul! — she whispered indignantly, putting all her fervor into the scraper with which she extracted dirt from all corners and crev-ices. — I would have cleaned these nooks and crannies properly, — she continued, scrubbing the floor even more furiously. — And it would oc-cur to some people to shove an unfortunate orphan into a room like this, if I may say so! In summer, it's hot as in an oven, and in winter there is just not enough stove. And this despite the fact that the hostess herself has an empty and huge house, there are so many rooms where there is no one to live anyway! "To give a child to a world that is al-ready full of unnecessary people!" — she remembered the phrase said by the hostess, and became even more angry, ridiculously and fiercely imitating the hostess. — And what's wrong with her conscience! And does she have a conscience at all?”
Nancy, thinking all this, wrung out the rag with such force that she al-most dislocated her fingers.
"There may indeed be too many people in the world, — she grumbled again in the voice of the hostess, — but there are not too many children there, but such heartless, self-confident people!”
When Nancy finished cleaning, she looked around the small room under the roof with a dissatisfied look and sighed heavily.
“Well, at least I did my job well, now there is not a speck of dust, not a speck of dust. However, "she smiled mirthlessly," there is nothing else here either. Poor baby! Nothing to say, a pretty place for a lonely young soul!”
At this thought, anger took hold of her again and, leaving the room, Nancy slammed the door with all her might.
“Oh! — She immediately caught herself. But now she was not even afraid of the reprimand that she could get from the hostess for the noise she made in the house. "I don't care," Nancy muttered. — It's even bet-ter for me. Let him hear the door slam!”

That evening, taking a free moment, Nancy sought out good old Tom, the gardener who had worked for the Harrington’s for many years. Old Tom was bending low by the flower bed, working on the flowers.
"Mr. Tom, — Nancy whispered in his ear. She quickly looked around and, making sure that no one was watching them, continued in the same hot whisper: — You know, Mr. Tom, a girl is coming to Miss Polly. She will live here. In the attic!” – she mouthed it.
“What girl?"  Tom asked, straightening his back with difficulty.
“Such a one. Just a girl. She'll be staying with Miss Polly”.
“You're talking nonsense, that's what! Tell me again that tomorrow the sun will set in the east”...
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