Page 168 - pollyanna

voice.
‘But you will—when you know; you’re so kind and good!
Why, think of the prisms and the gold pieces, and all that
money you save for the heathen, and—‘
‘Pollyanna!’ interrupted the man, savagely. ‘Once for all
let us end that nonsense! I’ve tried to tell you half a doz-
en times before. There is no money for the heathen. I never
sent a penny to them in my life. There!’
He lifted his chin and braced himself to meet what he
expected—the grieved disappointment of Pollyanna’s eyes.
To his amazement, however, there was neither grief nor dis-
appointment in Pollyanna’s eyes. There was only surprised
joy.
‘Oh, oh!’ she cried, clapping her hands. ‘I’m so glad! That
is,’ she corrected, coloring distressfully, ‘I don’t mean that
I’m not sorry for the heathen, only just now I can’t help be-
ing glad that you don’t want the little India boys, because
all the rest have wanted them. And so I’m glad you’d rather
have Jimmy Bean. Now I know you’ll take him!’
‘Take—WHO?’
‘Jimmy Bean. He’s the ‘child’s presence,’ you know; and
he’ll be so glad to be it. I had to tell him last week that even
my Ladies’ Aid out West wouldn’t take him, and he was so
disappointed. But now—when he hears of this—he’ll be so
glad!’
‘Will he? Well, I won’t,’ ejaculated the man, decisively.
‘Pollyanna, this is sheer nonsense!’
‘You don’t mean—you won’t take him?’
‘I certainly do mean just that.’

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