after a moment's silence. "You just have to sit and think; and times like that your think gets to be something awful. Mine did, anyhow. I wanted to go to school and learn things—more things than just mumsey can teach me; and I thought of that. I wanted to run and play ball with the other boys; and I thought of that. I wanted to go out and sell papers with Jerry; and I thought of that. I didn't want to be taken care of all my life; and I thought of that."
"I know, oh, I know," breathed Pollyanna, with shining eyes. "Didn't I lose my legs for a while?"
"Did you? Then you do know, some. But you've got yours again. I hain't, you know," sighed the boy, the shadow in his eyes deepening.
"But you haven't told me yet about—the Jolly Book," prompted Pollyanna, after a minute.
The boy stirred and laughed shamefacedly.
"Well, you see, it ain't much, after all, except to me. You wouldn't see much in it. I started it a year ago. I was feelin' 'specially bad that day. Nothin' was right. For a while I grumped it out, just thinkin'; and then I picked up one of father's books and tried to read. And the first thing I see was this: I learned it afterwards, so I can say it now.
"'Pleasures lie thickest where no pleasures seem;
There's not a leaf that falls upon the ground
But holds some joy, of silence or of sound.'[1]
"Well, I was mad. I wished I could put the guy that wrote that in my place, and see what kind of joy
- ↑ "Blanchard. Lyric Offerings. Hidden Joys."
