POLLYANNA
And it's sick, I'm sure, and all mangy and fleay."
"I know it, poor little thing," crooned Pollyanna, tenderly, looking into the little creature's frightened eyes. "And it's all trembly, too, it's so scared. You see it doesn't know, yet, that we're going to keep it, of course."
"No—nor anybody else," retorted Miss Polly, with meaning emphasis.
"Oh, yes, they do," nodded Pollyanna, entirely misunderstanding her aunt's words. "I told everybody we should keep it, if I didn't find where it belonged. I knew you'd be glad to have it—poor little lonesome thing!"
Miss Polly opened her lips and tried to speak; but in vain. The curious helpless feeling that had been hers so often since Pollyanna's arrival, had her now fast in its grip.
"Of course I knew," hurried on Pollyanna, gratefully, "that you wouldn't let a dear little lonesome kitty go hunting for a home when you'd just taken me in; and I said so to Mrs. Ford when she asked if you'd let me keep it. Why I had the Ladies' Aid, you know, and kitty didn't have anybody. I knew you'd feel that way," she nodded happily, as she ran from the room.
"But, Pollyanna, Pollyanna," remonstrated Miss Polly. "I don't—" But Pollyanna was already halfway to the kitchen, calling:
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