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Page 63
School, in some ways, was a surprise to Pollyanna; and Pollyanna,
certainly, in many ways, was very much of a surprise to school.
They were soon on the best of terms, however, and to her aunt
Pollyanna confessed that going to school WAS living, after
all--though she had had her doubts before.
In spite of her delight in her new work, Pollyanna did not forget
her old friends. True, she could not give them quite so much time
now, of course; but she gave them what time she could. Perhaps
John Pendleton, of them all, however, was the most dissatisfied.
One Saturday afternoon he spoke to her about it.
"See here, Pollyanna, how would you like to come and live with
me?" he asked, a little impatiently. "I don't see anything of you,
nowadays."
Pollyanna laughed--Mr. Pendleton was such a funny man!
"I thought you didn't like to have folks 'round," she said.
He made a wry face.
"Oh, but that was before you taught me to play that wonderful
game of yours. Now I'm glad to be waited on, hand and foot! Never
mind, I'll be on my own two feet yet, one of these days; then
I'll see who steps around," he finished, picking up one of the
crutches at his side and shaking it playfully at the little girl.
They were sitting in the great library to-day.
"Oh, but you aren't really glad at all for things; you just SAY
you are," pouted Pollyanna, her eyes on the dog, dozing before
the fire. "You know you don't play the game right EVER, Mr.
Pendleton--you know you don't!"
The man's face grew suddenly very grave.
"That's why I want you, little girl--to help me play it. Will you
come?"
Pollyanna turned in surprise.
"Mr. Pendleton, you don't really mean--that?"
"But I do. I want you. Will you come?"
Pollyanna looked distressed.
"Why, Mr. Pendleton, I can't--you know I can't. Why, I'm--Aunt
Polly's!"
A quick something crossed the man's face that Pollyanna could not
quite understand. His head came up almost fiercely.
"You're no more hers than--Perhaps she would let you come to me,"
he finished more gently. "Would you come--if she did?"
Pollyanna frowned in deep thought.
"But Aunt Polly has been so--good to me," she began slowly; "and
she took me when I didn't have anybody left but the Ladies' Aid,
and--"
Again that spasm of something crossed the man's face; but this
time, when he spoke, his voice was low and very sad.
"Pollyanna, long years ago I loved somebody very much. I hoped to
bring her, some day, to this house. I pictured how happy we'd be
together in our home all the long years to come."
"Yes," pitied Pollyanna, her eyes shining with sympathy.
"But--well, I didn't bring her here. Never mind why. I just
didn't that's all. And ever since then this great gray pile of
stone has been a house--never a home. It takes a woman's hand and
heart, or a child's presence, to make a home, Pollyanna; and I
have not had either. Now will you come, my dear?"
Pollyanna sprang to her feet. Her face was fairly illumined.
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