POLLYANNA
"What about me? How do you suppose I'm going to be 'glad' about anything—without you? Why, Pollyanna, it's only since you came that I've been even half glad to live! But if I had you for my own little girl, I'd be glad for—anything; and I'd try to make you glad, too, my dear. You shouldn't have a wish ungratified. All my money, to the last cent, should go to make you happy."
Pollyanna looked shocked.
"Why, Mr. Pendleton, as if I'd let you spend it on me—all that money you've saved for the heathen!"
A dull red came to the man's face. He started to speak, but Pollyanna was still talking.
"Besides, anybody with such a lot of money as you have doesn't need me to make you glad about things. You're making other folks so glad giving them things that you just can't help being glad yourself! Why, look at those prisms you gave Mrs. Snow and me, and the gold piece you gave Nancy on her birthday, and—"
"Yes, yes—never mind about all that," interrupted the man. His face was very, very red now—and no wonder, perhaps: it was not for "giving things" that John Pendleton had been best known in the past. "That's all nonsense. 'Twasn't much, anyhow—but what there was, was because of you. You gave those things; not I! Yes, you
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