mourned Pollyanna to herself over and over again, as the days passed. "And he was Jamie—I just know he was Jamie. And now I'll have to wait and wait till spring comes, and it's warm enough for him to come here again. And then, maybe, I sha'n't be coming here by that time. O dear, O dear—and he was Jamie, I know he was Jamie!"
Then, one dreary afternoon, the unexpected happened. Pollyanna, passing through the upper hallway heard angry voices in the hall below, one of which she recognized as being Mary's, while the other—the other—
The other voice was saying:
"Not on yer life! It's nix on the beggin' business. Do yer get me? I wants ter see the kid, Pollyanna. I got a message for her from—from Sir James. Now beat it, will ye, and trot out the kid, if ye don't mind."
With a glad little cry Pollyanna turned and fairly flew down the stairway.
"Oh, I'm here, I'm here, I'm right here!" she panted, stumbling forward. "What is it? Did Jamie send you?"
In her excitement she had almost flung herself with outstretched arms upon the boy when Mary intercepted a shocked, restraining hand.
"Miss Pollyanna, Miss Pollyanna, do you mean to say you know this—this beggar boy?"
The boy flushed angrily; but before he could speak Pollyanna interposed valiant championship.
"He isn't a beggar boy. He belongs to one of my
