Page 72 - pollyanna

his face look really pleasant, Pollyanna thought.
‘Good afternoon,’ he greeted her a little stiffly. ‘Perhaps
I’d better say right away that I KNOW the sun is shining
to-day.’
‘But you don’t have to tell me,’ nodded Pollyanna, bright-
ly. ‘I KNEW you knew it just as soon as I saw you.’
‘Oh, you did, did you?’
‘Yes, sir; I saw it in your eyes, you know, and in your
smile.’
‘Humph!’ grunted the man, as he passed on.
The Man always spoke to Pollyanna after this, and fre-
quently he spoke first, though usually he said little but
‘good afternoon.’ Even that, however, was a great surprise
to Nancy, who chanced to be with Pollyanna one day when
the greeting was given.
‘Sakes alive, Miss Pollyanna,’ she gasped, ‘did that man
SPEAK TO YOU?’
‘Why, yes, he always does—now,’ smiled Pollyanna.
‘ ‘He always does’! Goodness! Do you know who—he—
is?’ demanded Nancy.
Pollyanna frowned and shook her head.
‘I reckon he forgot to tell me one day. You see, I did my
part of the introducing, but he didn’t.’
Nancy’s eyes widened.
‘But he never speaks ter anybody, child—he hain’t for
years, I guess, except when he just has to, for business, and
all that. He’s John Pendleton. He lives all by himself in the
big house on Pendleton Hill. He won’t even have any one
‘round ter cook for him—comes down ter the hotel for his

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