a man! But what can I do, with—these?" He spoke bitterly, and laid his hand on the crutches at his side.
Pollyanna was shocked and distressed. It was the first time she had heard Jamie speak of his infirmity since the old boyhood days. Frantically she cast about in her mind for just the right thing to say; but before she had even thought of anything, Jamie's face had undergone a complete change.
"But, there, forget it! I didn't mean to say it," he cried gaily. "And 'twas rank heresy to the game, wasn't it? I'm sure I'm glad I've got the crutches. They're a whole lot nicer than the wheel chair!"
"And the Jolly Book—do you keep it now?" asked Pollyanna, in a voice that trembled a little.
"Sure! I've got a whole library of jolly books now," he retorted. "They're all in leather, dark red, except the first one. That is the same little old notebook that Jerry gave me."
"Jerry! And I've been meaning all the time to ask for him," cried Pollyanna. "Where is he?"
"In Boston; and his vocabulary is just as picturesque as ever, only he has to tone it down at times. Jerry's still in the newspaper business—but he's getting the news, not selling it. Reporting, you know. I have been able to help him and mumsey. And don't you suppose I was glad? Mumsey's in a sanatorium for her rheumatism."
"And is she better?"
"Very much. She's coming out pretty soon, and
