POLLYANNA
at the roast turkey place, you know, that was sixty cents. Does Mr. Pendleton like beans?"
"Like 'em! What if he does—or don't? Why, Miss Pollyanna, he ain't poor. He's got loads of money, John Pendleton has—from his father. There ain't nobody in town as rich as he is. He could eat dollar bills, if he wanted to—and not know it."
Pollyanna giggled.
"As if anybody could eat dollar bills and not know it, Nancy, when they come to try to chew 'em!"
"Ho! I mean he's rich enough ter do it," shrugged Nancy. "He ain't spendin' his money, that's all. He's a-savin' of it."
"Oh, for the heathen," surmised Pollyanna. "How perfectly splendid! That's denying yourself and taking up your cross. I know; father told me."
Nancy's lips parted abruptly, as if there were angry words all ready to come; but her eyes, resting on Pollyanna's jubilantly trustful face, saw something that prevented the words being spoken.
"Humph!" she vouchsafed. Then, showing her old-time interest, she went on: "But, say, it is queer, his speakin' to you, honestly, Miss Pollyanna. He don't speak ter no one; and he lives all alone in a great big lovely house all full of jest grand
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