"Why, y-yes, I think so."
"Delightfully agreeable specimen of humanity, wasn't I?"
In spite of her perturbation Pollyanna smiled faintly.
"I—I liked you, sir." Not until the words were uttered did Pollyanna realize just how they would sound. She strove then, frantically, to recall or modify them and had almost added a "that is, I mean, I liked you then!" when she stopped just in time: certainly that would not have helped matters any! She listened then, fearfully, for John Pendleton's next words. They came almost at once.
"I know you did—bless your little heart! And it was that that was the saving of me. I wonder, Pollyanna, if I could ever make you realize just what your childish trust and liking did for me."
Pollyanna stammered a confused protest; but he brushed it smilingly aside.
"Oh, yes, it was! It was you, and no one else. I wonder if you remember another thing, too," resumed the man, after a moment's silence, during which Pollyanna looked furtively, but longingly toward the door. "I wonder if you remember my telling you once that nothing but a woman's hand and heart, or a child's presence could make a home."
Pollyanna felt the blood rush to her face.
"Y-yes, n-no—I mean, yes, I remember it," she stuttered; "but I—I don't think it's always so now. I mean—that is, I'm sure your home now is—is lovely just as 'tis, and—"
