A QUESTION ANSWERED
"Did she refuse—to let you—come?"
"I—I didn't ask her," stammered the little girl, miserably.
"Pollyanna!"
Pollyanna turned away her eyes. She could not meet the hurt, grieved gaze of her friend.
"So you didn't even ask her!"
"I couldn't, sir—truly," faltered Pollyanna. "You see, I found out—without asking. Aunt Polly wants me with her, and—and I want to stay, too," she confessed bravely. "You don't know how good she's been to me; and—and I think, really, sometimes she's beginning to be glad about things—lots of things. And you know she never used to be. You said it yourself. Oh, Mr. Pendleton, I couldn't leave Aunt Polly—now!"
There was a long pause. Only the snapping of the wood fire in the grate broke the silence. At last, however, the man spoke.
"No, Pollyanna; I see. You couldn't leave her—now," he said. "I won't ask you—again." The last word was so low it was almost inaudible; but Pollyanna heard.
"Oh, but you don't know about the rest of it," she reminded him eagerly. "There's the very gladdest thing you can do—truly there is!"
"Not for me, Pollyanna."
"Yes, sir, for you. You said it. You said only
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