sides, I fancy somebody else would have something to say about that; eh?"
Jimmy colored like a happy, conscious boy.
"Do you?" he challenged, trying to make his voice properly impersonal.
"Of course! John Pendleton."
"John Pendleton!" Jimmy wheeled sharply.
"What about John Pendleton?" queried a new voice; and Mrs. Carew came forward with a smile.
Jimmy, around whose ears for the second time within five minutes the world had crashed into fragments, barely collected himself enough for a low word of greeting. But Jamie, unabashed, turned with a triumphant air of assurance.
"Nothing; only I just said that I believed John Pendleton would have something to say about Pollyanna's loving anybody—but him."
"Pollyanna! John Pendleton!" Mrs. Carew sat down suddenly in the chair nearest her. If the two men before her had not been so deeply absorbed in their own affairs they might have noticed that the smile had vanished from Mrs. Carew's lips, and that an odd look as of almost fear had come to her eyes.
"Certainly," maintained Jamie. "Were you both blind last summer? Wasn't he with her a lot?"
"Why, I thought he was with—all of us," murmured Mrs. Carew, a little faintly.
"Not as he was with Pollyanna," insisted Jamie. "Besides, have you forgotten that day when we were talking about John Pendleton's marrying, and Pollyanna blushed and stammered and said finally that he
