It was at a noisy corner where two broader streets crossed that Pollyanna finally came to a dismayed stop. This time the tears quite overflowed, so that, lacking a handkerchief, she had to use the backs of both hands to wipe them away.
"Hullo, kid, why the weeps?" queried a cheery voice. "What's up?"
With a relieved little cry Pollyanna turned to confront a small boy carrying a bundle of newspapers under his arm.
"Oh, I'm so glad to see you!" she exclaimed. "I've so wanted to see some one who didn't talk Dutch!"
The small boy grinned.
"Dutch nothin'!" he scoffed. "You mean Dago, I bet ye."
Pollyanna gave a slight frown.
"Well, anyway, it—it wasn't English," she said doubtfully; "and they couldn't answer my questions. But maybe you can. Do you know where Mrs. Carew lives?"
"Nix! You can search me."
"Wha-at?" queried Pollyanna, still more doubtfully.
The boy grinned again.
"I say not in mine. I guess I ain't acquainted with the lady."
"But isn't there anybody anywhere that is?" implored Pollyanna. "You see, I just went out for a walk and I got lost. I've been ever and ever so far, but I can't find the house at all; and it's supper—I
