mean dinner time and getting dark. I want to get back. I must get back."
"Gee! Well, I should worry!" sympathized the boy.
"Yes, and I'm afraid Mrs. Carew'll worry, too," sighed Pollyanna.
"Gorry! if you ain't the limit," chuckled the youth, unexpectedly. "But, say, listen! Don't ye know the name of the street ye want?"
"No—only that it's some kind of an avenue," desponded Pollyanna.
"A avenoo, is it? Sure, now, some class to that! We're doin' fine. What's the number of the house? Can ye tell me that? Just scratch your head!"
"Scratch—my—head?" Pollyanna frowned questioningly, and raised a tentative hand to her hair.
The boy eyed her with disdain.
"Aw, come off yer perch! Ye ain't so dippy as all that. I say, don't ye know the number of the house ye want?"
"N-no, except there's a seven in it," returned Pollyanna, with a faintly hopeful air.
"Won't ye listen ter that?" gibed the scornful youth. "There's a seven in it—an' she expects me ter know it when I see it!"
"Oh, I should know the house, if I could only see it," declared Pollyanna, eagerly; "and I think I'd know the street, too, on account of the lovely long yard running right up and down through the middle of it."
