POLLYANNA
Polly's hand and heart here all those years. What did you mean?"
"Why, because you were lovers, you know—once; and I was so glad you still felt that way now."
"Lovers!—your Aunt Polly and I?"
At the obvious surprise in the man's voice, Pollyanna opened wide her eyes.
"Why, Mr. Pendleton, Nancy said you were!"
The man gave a short little laugh.
"Indeed! Well, I'm afraid I shall have to say that Nancy—didn't know."
"Then you—weren't lovers?" Pollyanna's voice was tragic with dismay.
"Never!"
"And it isn't all coming out like a book?"
There was no answer. The man's eyes were moodily fixed out the window.
"O dear! And it was all going so splendidly," almost sobbed Pollyanna. "I'd have been so glad to come—with Aunt Polly."
"And you won't—now?" The man asked the question without turning his head.
"Of course not! I'm Aunt Polly's."
The man turned now, almost fiercely.
"Before you were hers, Pollyanna, you were—your mother's. And—it was your mother's hand and heart that I wanted long years ago."
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