"I—I have a little matter of my own that I'd like to see—your aunt about. Suppose we go down today on the three o'clock?"
"Good! We will, sir. Gorry! And so I'm Jamie! I can't grasp it yet!" exclaimed the young man, springing to his feet, and restlessly moving about the room. "I wonder, now," he stopped, and colored boyishly, "do you think—Aunt Ruth—will mind—very much?"
John Pendleton shook his head. A hint of the old somberness came into his eyes.
"Hardly, my boy. But—I'm thinking of myself. How about it? When you're her boy, where am I coming in?"
"You! Do you think anything could put you one side?" scoffed Jimmy, fervently. "You needn't worry about that. And she won't mind. She has Jamie, you know, and—" He stopped short, a dawning dismay in his eyes. "By George! Uncle John, I forgot—Jamie. This is going to be tough on—Jamie!"
"Yes, I'd thought of that. Still, he's legally adopted, isn't he?"
"Oh, yes; it isn't that. It's the fact that he isn't the real Jamie himself—and he with his two poor useless legs! Why, Uncle John, it'll just about kill him. I've heard him talk. I know. Besides, Pollyanna and Mrs. Carew both have told me how he feels, how sure he is, and how happy he is. Great Scott! I can't take away from him this— But what can I do?"
