Page 167 - pollyanna

‘Did she REFUSE—to let you—come?
‘I—I didn’t ask her,’ stammered the little girl, miserably.
‘Pollyanna!’
Pollyanna turned away her eyes. She could not meet the
hurt, grieved gaze of her friend.
‘So you didn’t even ask her!’
‘I couldn’t, sir—truly,’ faltered Pollyanna. ‘You see, I
found out—without asking. Aunt Polly WANTS me with
her, and—and I want to stay, too,’ she confessed brave-
ly. ‘You don’t know how good she’s been to me; and—and
I think, really, sometimes she’s beginning to be glad about
things—lots of things. And you know she never used to be.
You said it yourself. Oh, Mr. Pendleton, I COULDN’T leave
Aunt Polly—now!’
There was a long pause. Only the snapping of the wood
fire in the grate broke the silence. At last, however, the man
spoke.
‘No, Pollyanna; I see. You couldn’t leave her—now,’ he
said. ‘I won’t ask you—again.’ The last word was so low it
was almost inaudible; but Pollyanna heard.
‘Oh, but you don’t know about the rest of it,’ she remind-
ed him eagerly. ‘There’s the very gladdest thing you CAN
do—truly there is!’
‘Not for me, Pollyanna.’
‘Yes, sir, for you. You SAID it. You said only a—a wom-
an’s hand and heart or a child’s presence could make a home.
And I can get it for you—a child’s presence;—not me, you
know, but another one.’
‘As if I would have any but you!’ resented an indignant

1 Pollyanna