POLLYANNA
Pollyanna nodded.
"Oh, yes. He always speaks and smiles—now. He's only cross outside, you know. I'll go and get the jelly. Nancy had it 'most fixed when I came in," finished Pollyanna, already halfway across the room.
"Pollyanna, wait!" Miss Polly's voice was suddenly very stern. "I've changed my mind. I would prefer that Mrs. Snow had that jelly to-day—as usual. That is all. You may go now."
Pollyanna's face fell.
"Oh, but Aunt Polly, hers will last. She can always be sick and have things, you know; but his is just a broken leg, and legs don't last—I mean, broken ones. He's had it a whole week now."
"Yes, I remember. I heard Mr. John Pendleton had met with an accident," said Miss Polly, a little stiffly; "but—I do not care to be sending jelly to John Pendleton, Pollyanna."
"I know, he is cross—outside," admitted Pollyanna, sadly, "so I suppose you don't like him. But I wouldn't say 'twas you sent it. I'd say 'twas me. I like him. I'd be glad to send him jelly."
Miss Polly began to shake her head again. Then, suddenly, she stopped, and asked in a curiously quiet voice:
"Does he know who you—are, Pollyanna?"
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