"Oh, but you—you wouldn't refuse!" faltered Pollyanna, in quick panic.
"I have refused."
Pollyanna swallowed convulsively. She had grown really pale.
"But, Mrs. Carew, please, please don't say you won't go, when it gets pleasant," she begged. "You see, for a—a special reason I wanted you to go—with me—just this once."
Mrs. Carew frowned. She opened her lips to make the "no" more decisive; but something in Pollyanna's pleading eyes must have changed the words, for when they came they were a reluctant acquiescence.
"Well, well, child, have your own way. But if I promise to go, you must promise not to go near the window for an hour, and not to ask again to-day if I think it's going to clear up."
"Yes'm, I will—I mean, I won't," palpitated Pollyanna. Then, as a pale shaft of light that was almost a sunbeam, came aslant through the window, she cried joyously: "But you do think it is going to—Oh!" she broke off in dismay, and ran from the room.
Unmistakably it "cleared up" the next morning. But, though the sun shone brightly, there was a sharp chill in the air, and by afternoon, when Pollyanna came home from school, there was a brisk wind. In spite of protests, however, she insisted that it was a beautiful day out, and that she should be perfectly miserable if Mrs. Carew would not come for a walk in the Public Garden. And Mrs. Carew went, though still protesting.
