Page 169 - pollyanna

‘But he’d be a lovely child’s presence,’ faltered Pollyanna.
She was almost crying now. ‘And you COULDN’T be lone-
some—with Jimmy ‘round.’
‘I don’t doubt it,’ rejoined the man; ‘but—I think I prefer
the lonesomeness.’
It was then that Pollyanna, for the first time in weeks,
suddenly remembered something Nancy had once told her.
She raised her chin aggrievedly.
‘Maybe you think a nice live little boy wouldn’t be bet-
ter than that old dead skeleton you keep somewhere; but I
think it would!’
‘SKELETON?’
‘Yes. Nancy said you had one in your closet, somewhere.’
‘Why, what—‘ Suddenly the man threw back his head
and laughed. He laughed very heartily indeed—so heartily
that Pollyanna began to cry from pure nervousness. When
he saw that, John Pendleton sat erect very promptly. His
face grew grave at once.
‘Pollyanna, I suspect you are right—more right than you
know,’ he said gently. ‘In fact, I KNOW that a ‘nice live little
boy’ would be far better than—my skeleton in the closet;
only—we aren’t always willing to make the exchange. We
are apt to still cling to—our skeletons, Pollyanna. However,
suppose you tell me a little more about this nice little boy.’
And Pollyanna told him.
Perhaps the laugh cleared the air; or perhaps the pathos
of Jimmy Bean’s story as told by Pollyanna’s eager little lips
touched a heart already strangely softened. At all events,
when Pollyanna went home that night she carried with her

1 Pollyanna