Pollyanna & Pollyanna Grows Up (Musaicum Children's Classics). Eleanor H. Porter

for askin’ questions!” sighed the boy impatiently.

      “I have to be,” retorted Pollyanna calmly, “else I couldn’t find out a thing about you. If you’d talk more I wouldn’t talk so much.”

      The boy gave a short laugh. It was a sheepish laugh, and not quite a willing one; but his face looked a little pleasanter when he spoke this time.

      “All right then—here goes! I’m Jimmy Bean, and I’m ten years old goin’ on eleven. I come last year ter live at the Orphans’ Home; but they’ve got so many kids there ain’t much room for me, an’ I wa’n’t never wanted, anyhow, I don’t believe. So I’ve quit. I’m goin’ ter live somewheres else—but I hain’t found the place, yet. I’d LIKE a home—jest a common one, ye know, with a mother in it, instead of a Matron. If ye has a home, ye has folks; an’ I hain’t had folks since—dad died. So I’m a-huntin’ now. I’ve tried four houses, but—they didn’t want me—though I said I expected ter work, ‘course. There! Is that all you want ter know?” The boy’s voice had broken a little over the last two sentences.

      “Why, what a shame!” sympathized Pollyanna. “And didn’t there anybody want you? O dear! I know just how you feel, because after—after my father died, too, there wasn’t anybody but the Ladies’ Aid for me, until Aunt Polly said she’d take—” Pollyanna stopped abruptly. The dawning of a wonderful idea began to show in her face.

      “Oh, I know just the place for you,” she cried. “Aunt Polly’ll take you—I know she will! Didn’t she take me? And didn’t she take Fluffy and Buffy, when they didn’t have any one to love them, or any place to go?—and they’re only cats and dogs. Oh, come, I know Aunt Polly’ll take you! You don’t know how good and kind she is!”

      Jimmy Bean’s thin little face brightened.

      “Honest Injun? Would she, now? I’d work, ye know, an’ I’m real strong!” He bared a small, bony arm.

      “Of course she would! Why, my Aunt Polly is the nicest lady in the world—now that my mama has gone to be a Heaven angel. And there’s rooms—heaps of ‘em,” she continued, springing to her feet, and tugging at his arm. “It’s an awful big house. Maybe, though,” she added a little anxiously, as they hurried on, “maybe you’ll have to sleep in the attic room. I did, at first. But there’s screens there now, so ‘twon’t be so hot, and the flies can’t get in, either, to bring in the germ-things on their feet. Did you know about that? It’s perfectly lovely! Maybe she’ll let you read the book if you’re good—I mean, if you’re bad. And you’ve got freckles, too,”—with a critical glance—“so you’ll be glad there isn’t any looking-glass; and the outdoor picture is nicer than any wall-one could be, so you won’t mind sleeping in that room at all, I’m sure,” panted Pollyanna, finding suddenly that she needed the rest of her breath for purposes other than talking.

      “Gorry!” exclaimed Jimmy Bean tersely and uncomprehendingly, but 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,