In spite of Pollyanna's brave assertion that she
was "used to Ladies' Aiders," and "didn't mind," she had sighed
at times for some companion of her own age. Hence her
determination to make the most of this one.
"My name's Pollyanna Whittier," she began pleasantly. "What's
yours?"
Again the boy stirred restlessly. He even almost got to his feet.
But he settled back.
"Jimmy Bean," he grunted with ungracious indifference.
"Good! Now we're introduced. I'm glad you did your part--some
folks don't, you know. I live at Miss Polly Harrington's house.
Where do you live?"
"Nowhere."
"Nowhere! Why, you can't do that--everybody lives somewhere,"
asserted Pollyanna.
"Well, I don't--just now. I'm huntin' up a new place."
"Oh! Where is it?"
The boy regarded her with scornful eyes.
"Silly! As if I'd be a-huntin' for it--if I knew!"
Pollyanna tossed her head a little. This was not a nice boy, and
she did not like to be called "silly." Still, he was somebody
besides--old folks. "Where did you live--before?" she queried.
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