Page 139 - pollyanna

there was some entertaining story, whether it were a set of
exquisitely carved chessmen from China, or a little jade idol
from India.
It was after she had heard the story about the idol that
Pollyanna murmured wistfully:
‘Well, I suppose it WOULD be better to take a little boy
in India to bring up—one that didn’t know any more than
to think that God was in that doll-thing—than it would be
to take Jimmy Bean, a little boy who knows God is up in the
sky. Still, I can’t help wishing they had wanted Jimmy Bean,
too, besides the India boys.’
John Pendleton did not seem to hear. Again his, eyes
were staring straight before him, looking at nothing. But
soon he had roused himself, and had picked up another cu-
rio to talk about.
The visit, certainly, was a delightful one, but before it was
over, Pollyanna was realizing that they were talking about
something besides the wonderful things in the beautiful
carved box. They were talking of herself, of Nancy, of Aunt
Polly, and of her daily life. They were talking, too, even of
the life and home long ago in the far Western town.
Not until it was nearly time for her to go, did the man
say, in a voice Pollyanna had never before heard from stern
John Pendleton:
‘Little girl, I want you to come to see me often. Will you?
I’m lonesome, and I need you. There’s another reason—and
I’m going to tell you that, too. I thought, at first, after I found
out who you were, the other day, that I didn’t want you to
come any more. You reminded me of—of something I have

1 Pollyanna