Pollyanna
admiringly. Then he added: “I shouldn't think anybody who could talk
like that, runnin', would need ter ask no questions ter fill up time
with!”
Pollyanna laughed.
“Well, anyhow, you can be glad of that,” she retorted; “for when I'm
talking, YOU don't have to!”
When the house was reached, Pollyanna unhesitatingly piloted her
companion straight into the presence of her amazed aunt.
“Oh, Aunt Polly,” she triumphed, “just look a-here! I've got something
ever so much nicer, even, than Fluffy and Buffy for you to bring up.
It's a real live boy. He won't mind a bit sleeping in the attic, at
first, you know, and he says he'll work; but I shall need him the most
of the time to play with, I reckon.”
Miss Polly grew white, then very red. She did not quite understand; but
she thought she understood enough.
“Pollyanna, what does this mean? Who is this dirty little boy? Where did
you find him?” she demanded sharply.
The “dirty little boy” fell back a step and looked toward the door.
Pollyanna laughed merrily.
“There, if I didn't forget to tell you his name! I'm as bad as the Man.
And he is dirty, too, isn't he?--I mean, the boy is--just like Fluffy
and Buffy were when you took them in. But I reckon he'll improve all
right by washing, just as they did, and--Oh, I 'most forgot again,” she
broke off with a laugh. “This is Jimmy Bean, Aunt Polly.”
“Well, what is he doing here?”
“Why, Aunt Polly, I just told you!” Pollyanna's eyes were wide with
surprise. “He's for you. I brought him home--so he could live here, you
know. He wants a home and folks. I told him how good you were to me,
and to Fluffy and Buffy, and that I knew you would be to him, because of
course he's even nicer than cats and dogs.”
Miss Polly dropped back in her chair and raised a shaking hand to her
throat. The old helplessness was threatening once more to overcome her.
With a visible struggle, however, Miss Polly pulled herself suddenly
erect.
“That will do, Pollyanna. This is a little the most absurd thing you've
done yet. As if tramp cats and mangy dogs weren't bad enough but you
must needs bring home ragged little beggars from the street, who--”
There was a sudden stir from the boy. His eyes flashed and his chin came
up. With two strides of his sturdy little legs he confronted Miss Polly
fearlessly.
“I ain't a beggar, marm, an' I don't want nothin' o' you. I was
cal'latin' ter work, of course, fur my board an' keep. I wouldn't have
come ter your old house, anyhow, if this 'ere girl hadn't 'a' made me,
a-tellin' me how you was so good an' kind that you'd be jest dyin' ter
take me in. So, there!” And he wheeled about and stalked from the room
with a dignity that would have been absurd had it not been so pitiful.
“Oh, Aunt Polly,” choked Pollyanna. “Why, I thought you'd be GLAD to
have him here! I'm sure, I should think you'd be glad--”
Miss Polly raised her hand with a peremptory gesture of silence. Miss
Polly's nerves had snapped at last. The “good and kind” of the boy's
words were still ringing in her ears, and the old helplessness was
almost upon her, she knew. Yet she rallied her forces with the last atom
of her will power.
“Pollyanna,” she cried sharply, “WILL you stop using that everlasting
word 'glad'! It's 'glad'--'glad'--'glad' from morning till night until I
think I shall grow wild!”
From sheer amazement Pollyanna's jaw dropped.
“Why, Aunt Polly,” she breathed, “I should think you'd be glad to have
me gl--Oh!” she broke off, clapping her hand to her lips and hurrying
blindly from the room.
Before the boy had reached the end of the driveway, Pollyanna overtook
him.
“Boy! Boy! Jimmy Bean, I want you to know how--how sorry I am,” she
panted, catching him with a detaining hand.
“Sorry nothin'! I ain't blamin' you,” retorted the boy, sullenly. “But I
ain't no beggar!” he added, with sudden spirit.
“Of course you aren't! But you mustn't blame auntie,” appealed
Pollyanna. “Probably I didn't do the introducing right, anyhow; and
I reckon I didn't tell her much who you were. She is good and kind,
really--she's always been; but I probably didn't explain it right. I do
wish I could find some place for you, though!”
The boy shrugged his shoulders and half turned away.
“Never mind. I guess I can find one myself. I ain't no beggar, you
know.”
Pollyanna was frowning thoughtfully. Of a sudden she turned, her face
illumined.
“Say, I'll tell you what I WILL do! The Ladies' Aid meets this
afternoon. I heard Aunt Polly say so. I'll lay your case before them.
That's what father always did, when he wanted anything--educating the
heathen and new carpets, you know.”
The boy turned fiercely.
“Well, I ain't a heathen or a new carpet. Besides--what is a Ladies'
Aid?”
Pollyanna stared in shocked disapproval.
“Why, Jimmy Bean, wherever have you been brought up?--not to know what a
Ladies' Aid is!”
“Oh, all right--if you ain't tellin',” grunted the boy, turning and
beginning to walk away indifferently.
Pollyanna sprang to his side at once.
“It's--it's--why, it's just a lot of ladies that meet and sew and give
suppers and raise money and--and talk; that's what a Ladies' Aid is.
They're awfully kind--that is, most of mine was, back home. I haven't
seen this one here, but they're always good, I reckon. I'm going to tell
them about you this afternoon.”
Again the boy turned fiercely.
“Not much you will! Maybe you think I'm goin' ter stand 'round an' hear
a whole LOT o' women call me a beggar, instead of jest ONE! Not much!”
“Oh, but you wouldn't be there,” argued Pollyanna, quickly. “I'd go
alone, of course, and tell them.”
“You would?”
“Yes; and I'd tell it better this time,” hurried on Pollyanna, quick to
see the signs of relenting in the boy's face. “And there'd be some of
'em, I know, that would be glad to give you a home.”
“I'd work--don't forget ter say that,” cautioned the boy.
“Of course not,” promised Pollyanna, happily, sure now that her point
was gained. “Then I'll let you know to-morrow.”
“Where?”
“By the road--where I found you to-day; near Mrs. Snow's house.”
“All right. I'll be there.” The boy paused before he went on slowly:
“Maybe I'd better go back, then, for ter-night, ter the Home. You see
I hain't no other place ter stay; and--and I didn't leave till this
mornin'. I slipped out. I didn't tell 'em I wasn't comin' back, else
they'd pretend I couldn't come--though I'm thinkin' they won't do no
worryin' when I don't show up sometime. They ain't like FOLKS, ye know.
They don't CARE!”
“I know,” nodded Pollyanna, with understanding eyes. “But I'm sure, when
I see you to-morrow, I'll have just a common home and folks that do care
all ready for you. Good-by!” she called brightly, as she turned back
toward the house.
In the sitting-room window at that moment, Miss Polly, who had been
watching the two children, followed with sombre eyes the boy until a
bend of the road hid him from sight. Then she sighed, turned, and walked
listlesly up-stairs--and Miss Polly did not usually move listlessly. In
her ears still was the boy's scornful “you was so good and kind.” In her
heart was a curious sense of desolation--as of something lost.
CHAPTER XII. BEFORE THE LADIES' AID
Dinner, which came at noon in the Harrington homestead, was a silent
meal on the day of the Ladies' Aid meeting. Pollyanna, it is true, tried
to talk; but she did not make a success of it, chiefly because four
times she was obliged to break off a “glad” in the middle of it, much
to her blushing discomfort. The fifth time it happened, Miss Polly moved
her head wearily.
“There, there, child, say it, if you want to,” she sighed. “I'm sure I'd
rather you did than not if it's going to make all this fuss.”
Pollyanna's puckered little face cleared.
“Oh, thank you. I'm afraid it would be pretty hard--not to say it. You
see I've played it so long.”
“You've--what?” demanded Aunt Polly.
“Played it--the game, you know, that father--” Pollyanna stopped with a
painful blush at finding herself so soon again on forbidden ground.
Aunt Polly frowned and said nothing. The rest of the meal was a silent
one.
Pollyanna was not sorry to hear Aunt Polly tell the minister's wife over
the telephone, a little later, that she would not be at the Ladies'
Aid meeting that afternoon, owing to a headache. When Aunt Polly went
up-stairs to her room and closed the door, Pollyanna tried to be sorry
for the headache; but she could not help feeling glad that her aunt was
not to be present that afternoon when she laid the case of Jimmy Bean
before the Ladies' Aid. She could not forget that Aunt Polly had called
Jimmy Bean a little beggar; and she did not want Aunt Polly to call him
that--before the Ladies' Aid.
Pollyanna knew that the Ladies' Aid met at two o'clock in the chapel
next the church, not quite half a mile from home. She planned her going,
therefore, so that she should get there a little before three.
“I want them all to be there,” she said to herself; “else the very one
that wasn't there might be the one who would be wanting to give Jimmy
Bean a home; and, of course, two o'clock always means three, really--to
Ladies' Aiders.”
Quietly, but with confident courage, Pollyanna ascended the chapel
steps, pushed open the door and entered the vestibule. A soft babel of
feminine chatter and laughter came from the main room. Hesitating only a
brief moment Pollyanna pushed open one of the inner doors.
The chatter dropped to a surprised hush. Pollyanna advanced a little
timidly. Now that the time had come, she felt unwontedly shy. After all,
these half-strange, half-familiar faces about her were not her own dear
Ladies' Aid.
“How do you do, Ladies' Aiders?” she faltered politely. “I'm Pollyanna
Whittier. I--I reckon some of you know me, maybe; anyway, I do YOU--only
I don't know you all together this way.”
The silence could almost be felt now. Some of the ladies did know this
rather extraordinary niece of their fellow-member, and nearly all had
heard of her; but not one of them could think of anything to say, just
then.
“I--I've come to--to lay the case before you,” stammered Pollyanna,
after a moment, unconsciously falling into her father's familiar
phraseology.
There was a slight rustle.
“Did--did your aunt send you, my dear?” asked Mrs. Ford, the minister's
wife.
Pollyanna colored a little.
“Oh, no. I came all by myself. You see, I'm used to Ladies' Aiders. It
was Ladies' Aiders that brought me up--with father.”
Somebody tittered hysterically, and the minister's wife frowned.
“Yes, dear. What is it?”
“Well, it--it's Jimmy Bean,” sighed Pollyanna. “He hasn't any home
except the Orphan one, and they're full, and don't want him, anyhow, he
thinks; so he wants another. He wants one of the common kind, that has
a mother instead of a Matron in it--folks, you know, that'll care. He's
ten years old going on eleven. I thought some of you might like him--to
live with you, you know.”
“Well, did you ever!” murmured a voice, breaking the dazed pause that
followed Pollyanna's words.
With anxious eyes Pollyanna swept the circle of faces about her.
“Oh, I forgot to say; he will work,” she supplemented eagerly.
Still there was silence; then, coldly, one or two women began to
question her. After a time they all had the story and began to talk
among themselves, animatedly, not quite pleasantly.
Pollyanna listened with growing anxiety. Some of what was said she could
not understand. She did gather, after a time, however, that there was
no woman there who had a home to give him, though every woman seemed to
think that some of the others might take him, as there were several who
had no little boys of their own already in their homes. But there was no