But I know her. Every one knows her--and she isn't the
'glad' kind, Pollyanna. She doesn't know how to be. As for your
coming to me--you just ask her and see if she won't let you come.
And, oh, little girl, little girl, I want you so!" he finished
brokenly.
Pollyanna rose to her feet with a long sigh.
"All right. I'll ask her," she said wistfully. "Of course I don't
mean that I wouldn't like to live here with you, Mr. Pendleton,
but--" She did not complete her sentence. There was a moment's
silence, then she added: "Well, anyhow, I'm glad I didn't tell
her yesterday;--'cause then I supposed SHE was wanted, too."
John Pendleton smiled grimly.
"Well, yes, Pollyanna; I guess it is just as well you didn't
mention it--yesterday."
"I didn't--only to the doctor; and of course he doesn't count."
"The doctor!" cried John Pendleton, turning quickly.
"Not--Dr.--Chilton?"
"Yes; when he came to tell me you wanted to see me to-day, you
know."
"Well, of all the--" muttered the man, falling back in his chair.
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