THE COMING OF POLLYANNA
Pollyanna paused for breath, and Nancy managed to stammer:
"Well, I'm sure it—it'll be all right."
"I'm glad you feel that way. I do, too," nodded Pollyanna, again with that choking little breath. "Of course, 'twould have been a good deal harder to be glad in black—"
"Glad!" gasped Nancy, surprised into an interruption.
"Yes—that father's gone to Heaven to be with mother and the rest of us, you know. He said I must be glad. But it's been pretty hard to—to do it, even in red gingham, because I—I wanted him, so; and I couldn't help feeling I ought to have him, specially as mother and the rest have God and all the angels, while I didn't have anybody but the Ladies' Aid. But now I'm sure it'll be easier because I've got you, Aunt Polly. I'm so glad I've got you!"
Nancy's aching sympathy for the poor little forlornness beside her turned suddenly into shocked terror.
"Oh, but—but you've made an awful mistake, d-dear," she faltered. "I'm only Nancy. I ain't your Aunt Polly, at all!"
"You—you aren't?" stammered the little girl, in plain dismay.
"No. I'm only Nancy. I never thought of your
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