But under Pollyanna's
cheery instructions and merry laughter at her mistakes, she was
learning fast. To-day, even, to Pollyanna's huge delight, she had
said that she was glad Pollyanna brought calf's-foot jelly,
because that was just what she had been wanting--she did not know
that Milly, at the front door, had told Pollyanna that the
minister's wife had already that day sent over a great bowlful of
that same kind of jelly.
Pollyanna was thinking of this now when suddenly she saw the boy.
The boy was sitting in a disconsolate little heap by the
roadside, whittling half-heartedly at a small stick.
"Hullo," smiled Pollyanna, engagingly.
The boy glanced up, but he looked away again, at once.
"Hullo yourself," he mumbled.
Pollyanna laughed.
"Now you don't look as if you'd be glad even for calf's-foot
jelly," she chuckled, stopping before him.
The boy stirred restlessly, gave her a surprised look, and began
to whittle again at his stick, with the dull, broken-bladed knife
in his hand.
Pollyanna hesitated, then dropped herself comfortably down on the
grass near him.
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