The Trouble with Polly Brown Read Online Free PDF

that led directly into the Princesses School of Training. An abundance of fresh tears rolled freely down her face as once again she found herself standing outside Mrs. O’Brien’s classroom peering through the window. Polly watched on as her beloved and saintly teacher rolled out the pastry, at the same time keeping her girls amused with a number of humorous, if not slightly questionable, stories regarding her childhood days back in County Cork, Ireland. Polly turned her attention to the large stove and could clearly see chopped-up apples bubbling away in a copper-based pan, and she knew without a shadow of doubt that appletude pie was once again on the menu.
    â€œDear, sweet Mrs. O’Brien, oh how I miss you so very much,” she quietly moaned.
    As Polly continued to watch, she could smell the delicious, sweet pastry wafting in front of her nose, and instantly her mouth began to water, causing her empty stomach to rumble like a waste disposal. Polly wanted more than anything to open the classroom door and enter, but something held her back. Perhaps it was the knowledge that if she were to place even one foot into the room, well then, she would never again want to leave. As Polly deep down knew that this could not be, she courageously chose to content herself by just watching, her nose glued to the window in the same manner as when she passed her favorite tea room in the High Street back home.
    â€œHmm…lovely jubbly,” she whispered as her eyes began feasting on the number of freshly baked apple pies that, after leaving the hot oven, sat cooling on a table as they waited for the eager girls to dust them over with fine icing sugar.
    â€œGirls, girls, remember that just as we sprinkle these pies generously with sugar, so we must endeavor to consistently sprinkle the lives of all around us with the sweetest and kindest acts of warmth and generosity,” Mrs. O’Brien loudly commented as she purposely leaned over shoulder after shoulder in order to make sure the girls were following her instructions to the letter.
    As Polly listened to her teacher’s heartwarming and most compelling advice, she suddenly felt the same invisible hand that earlier on had wiped her brow now gently plunge into the core of her being, and like a specialist surgeon, those hands tenderly took hold of her heart.
    Polly held in her breath and listened intently to the hypnotic beat of her heart as something unimaginably precious was delicately placed into its very center. She thought she could hear a faint whisper in her ear, and it seemed to repeat over and over, “Never be afraid, for I hold you always in the palm of my hand.” Bizarre as all this might seem, even hearing those simple words helped her to lay all fear to rest.
    Added to this was the harsh fact that every waking moment of her life had found her constantly struggling to fight off a subversive and hideously foul morass of pure evil that desired to drag her down into its thick and choking abyss, so surely what was taking place in this small space in time must come from the other end of the hemisphere, perhaps beyond infinity itself! One thing was certain, and this was that the whole unimaginably overwhelming experience seemed far beyond any words of description and therefore way beyond the scope of the human mind with its rational grasp of all things considered tangible and therefore real. Whatever it was, it clearly stood firmly on the side of good, as all fear was immediately vanquished, and she found herself revived with fresh hope that sought to exchange her ever-grieving heart for a deep and timeless abiding joy.

    Eventually Polly slowly and most reluctantly opened her eyes, and in doing so, she was instantly brought back to Earth with a bump, for all too quickly she realized she was once again lying on the thin and lumpy horsehair mattress of her old, rickety iron bed. Polly pulled the thin blanket up to her chin, for despite being in the