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A Dose of Pollyanna
29


Obediently Pollyanna turned and trotted at Mrs. Carew's side, through the huge station; but she looked up once or twice rather anxiously into the lady's unsmiling face. At last she spoke hesitatingly.

"I expect maybe you thought—I'd be pretty," she hazarded, in a troubled voice.

"P-pretty?" repeated Mrs. Carew.

"Yes—with curls, you know, and all that. And of course you did wonder how I did look, just as I did you. Only I knew you'd be pretty and nice, on account of your sister. I had her to go by, and you didn't have anybody. And of course I'm not pretty, on account of the freckles, and it isn't nice when you've been expecting a pretty little girl, to have one come like me; and—"

"Nonsense, child!" interrupted Mrs. Carew, a trifle sharply. "Come, we'll see to your trunk now, then we'll go home. I had hoped that my sister would come with us; but it seems she didn't see fit—even for this one night."

Pollyanna smiled and nodded.

"I know; but she couldn't, probably. Somebody wanted her, I expect. Somebody was always wanting her at the Sanatorium. It's a bother, of course, when folks do want you all the time, isn't it?—'cause you can't have yourself when you want yourself, lots of times. Still, you can be kind of glad for that, for it is nice to be wanted, isn't it?"

There was no reply—perhaps because for the first time in her life Mrs. Carew was wondering if anywhere in the world there was any one who really