THROUGH AN OPEN WINDOW
The doctor made an impatient gesture, and got to his feet.
"What was it? What's any lovers' quarrel—after it's over?" he snarled, pacing the room angrily. "A silly wrangle over the size of the moon or the depth of a river, maybe—it might as well be, so far as its having any real significance compared to the years of misery that follow them! Never mind the quarrel! So far as I am concerned, I am willing to say there was no quarrel. Pendleton, I must see that child. It may mean life or death. It will mean—I honestly believe—nine chances out of ten that Pollyanna Whittier will walk again!"
The words were spoken clearly, impressively; and they were spoken just as the one who uttered them had almost reached the open window near John Pendleton's chair. Thus it happened that very distinctly they reached the ears of a small boy kneeling beneath the window on the ground outside.
Jimmy Bean, at his Saturday morning task of pulling up the first little green weeds of the flower-beds, sat up with ears and eyes wide open.
"Walk! Pollyanna!" John Pendleton was saying. "What do you mean?"
"I mean that from what I can hear and learn—
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