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Eleanor H. (Eleanor Hodgman) Porter
Eleanor Hodgman Porter (1868-1920) was an American novelist best known for her children's literature, particularly the classic novel "Pollyanna" published in 1913. Before achieving fame with "Pollyanna," she wrote several novels and short stories that were well-received in their time. Her optimistic and heartfelt writing style left a lasting legacy in children's literature, with "Pollyanna" popularizing the term "Pollyanna principle," referring to an excessively or blindly optimistic person.
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The Tangled Threads A Delayed Heritage When Hester was two years old a wheezy hand-organ would set her eyes to sparkling and her cheeks to dimpling, and when she was twenty the "Maiden's Prayer," played by a school-girl, would fill her soul with ecstasy. To Hester, all the world seemed full of melody. Even the clouds in the sky sailed slowly along in time to a stately march in her brain,...
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CHAPTER I. MISS POLLY Miss Polly Harrington entered her kitchen a little hurriedly 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 surprise. Nancy had been working in Miss Polly's kitchen only two months, but already she knew...
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CHAPTER I BILLY WRITES A LETTER Billy Neilson was eighteen years old when the aunt, who had brought her up from babyhood, died. Miss Benton's death left Billy quite alone in the world—alone, and peculiarly forlorn. To Mr. James Harding, of Harding & Harding, who had charge of Billy's not inconsiderable property, the girl poured out her heart in all its loneliness two days after the...
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AUNT SOPHRONIA The Reverend Thomas Wilson's sister, Miss Sophronia, had come to Sunbridge on a Tuesday evening late in June to make her brother's family a long-promised visit. But it was not until the next morning that she heard something that sent her to her sister-in-law in a burst of astonishment almost too great for words. "For pity's sake, Mary, what is this I hear?" she...
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CHAPTER I. CALDERWELL DOES SOME TALKING Calderwell had met Mr. M. J. Arkwright in London through a common friend; since then they had tramped half over Europe together in a comradeship that was as delightful as it was unusual. As Calderwell put it in a letter to his sister, Belle: "We smoke the same cigar and drink the same tea (he's just as much of an old woman on that subject as I am!), and...
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CHAPTER I. SOME OPINIONS AND A WEDDING "I, Bertram, take thee, Billy," chanted the white-robed clergyman. "'I, Bertram, take thee, Billy,'" echoed the tall young bridegroom, his eyes gravely tender. "To my wedded wife." "'To my wedded wife.'" The bridegroom's voice shook a little. "To have and to hold from this day forward." "'To...
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CHAPTER I Far up on the mountain-side stood alone in the clearing. It was roughly yet warmly built. Behind it jagged cliffs broke the north wind, and towered gray-white in the sunshine. Before it a tiny expanse of green sloped gently away to a point where the mountain dropped in another sharp descent, wooded with scrubby firs and pines. At the left a footpath led into the cool depths of the forest. But...
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CHAPTER I EXIT MR. STANLEY G. FULTON There was a thoughtful frown on the face of the man who was the possessor of twenty million dollars. He was a tall, spare man, with a fringe of reddish-brown hair encircling a bald spot. His blue eyes, fixed just now in a steady gaze upon a row of ponderous law books across the room, were friendly and benevolent in direct contradiction to the bulldog, never-let-go...
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CHAPTER I DELLA SPEAKS HER MIND Della Wetherby tripped up the somewhat imposing steps of her sister's Commonwealth Avenue home and pressed an energetic finger against the electric-bell button. From the tip of her wing-trimmed hat to the toe of her low-heeled shoe she radiated health, capability, and alert decision. Even her voice, as she greeted the maid that opened the door, vibrated with the joy...
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CHAPTER I I AM BORN The sun was slowly setting in the west, casting golden beams of light into the somber old room. That's the way it ought to begin, I know, and I'd like to do it, but I can't. I'm beginning with my being born, of course, and Nurse Sarah says the sun wasn't shining at all. It was night and the stars were out. She remembers particularly about the stars, for...
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