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Pollyanna Grows Up
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going to housekeeping with Jerry. Jerry's been making up some of his lost schooling during these past few years. He's let me help him—but only as a loan. He's been very particular to stipulate that."

"Of course," nodded Pollyanna, in approval. "He'd want it that way, I'm sure. I should. It isn't nice to be under obligations that you can't pay. I know how it is. That's why I so wish I could help Aunt Polly out—after all she's done for me!"

"But you are helping her this summer."

Pollyanna lifted her eyebrows.

"Yes, I'm keeping summer boarders. I look it, don't I?" she challenged, with a flourish of her hands toward her surroundings. "Surely, never was a boarding-house mistress's task quite like mine! And you should have heard Aunt Polly's dire predictions of what summer boarders would be," she chuckled irrepressibly.

"What was that?"

Pollyanna shook her head decidedly.

"Couldn't possibly tell you. That's a dead secret. But—" She stopped and sighed, her face growing wistful again. "This isn't going to last, you know. It can't. Summer boarders don't. I've got to do something winters. I've been thinking. I believe—I'll write stories."

Jamie turned with a start.

"You'll—what?" he demanded.

"Write stories—to sell, you know. You needn't look so surprised! Lots of folks do that. I knew two girls in Germany who did."