August came. August brought several surprises and some changes--none
of which, however, were really a surprise to Nancy. Nancy, since
Pollyanna's arrival, had come to look for surprises and changes.
First there was the kitten.
Pollyanna found the kitten mewing pitifully some distance down the road.
When systematic questioning of the neighbors failed to find any one who
claimed it, Pollyanna brought it home at once, as a matter of course.
“And I was glad I didn't find any one who owned it, too,” she told her
aunt in happy confidence; “'cause I wanted to bring it home all the
time. I love kitties. I knew you'd be glad to let it live here.”
Miss Polly looked at the forlorn little gray bunch of neglected misery
in Pollyanna's arms, and shivered: Miss Polly did not care for cats--not
even pretty, healthy, clean ones.
“Ugh! Pollyanna! What a dirty little beast! And it's sick, I'm sure, and
all mangy and fleay.”
“I know it, poor little thing,” crooned Pollyanna, tenderly, looking
into the little creature's frightened eyes. “And it's all trembly, too,
it's so scared. You see it doesn't know, yet, that we're going to keep
it, of course.”
“No--nor anybody else,” retorted Miss Polly, with meaning emphasis.
“Oh, yes, they do,” nodded Pollyanna, entirely misunderstanding her
aunt's words. “I told everybody we should keep it, if I didn't find
where it belonged. I knew you'd be glad to have it--poor little lonesome
thing!”
Miss Polly opened her lips and tried to speak; but in vain. The curious
helpless feeling that had been hers so often since Pollyanna's arrival,
had her now fast in its grip.
“Of course I knew,” hurried on Pollyanna, gratefully, “that you wouldn't
let a dear little lonesome kitty go hunting for a home when you'd just
taken ME in; and I said so to Mrs. Ford when she asked if you'd let me
keep it. Why, I had the Ladies' Aid, you know, and kitty didn't have
anybody. I knew you'd feel that way,” she nodded happily, as she ran
from the room.
“But, Pollyanna, Pollyanna,” remonstrated Miss Polly. “I don't--” But
Pollyanna was already halfway to the kitchen, calling:
“Nancy, Nancy, just see this dear little kitty that Aunt Polly is going
to bring up along with me!” And Aunt Polly, in the sitting room--who
abhorred cats--fell back in her chair with a gasp of dismay, powerless
to remonstrate.
The next day it was a dog, even dirtier and more forlorn, perhaps, than
was the kitten; and again Miss Polly, to her dumfounded amazement, found
herself figuring as a kind protector and an angel of mercy--a role that
Pollyanna so unhesitatingly thrust upon her as a matter of course,
that the woman--who abhorred dogs even more than she did cats, if
possible--found herself as before, powerless to remonstrate.
When, in less than a week, however, Pollyanna brought home a small,
ragged boy, and confidently claimed the same protection for him, Miss
Polly did have something to say. It happened after this wise.
On a pleasant Thursday morning Pollyanna had been taking calf's-foot
jelly again to Mrs. Snow. Mrs. Snow and Pollyanna were the best of
friends now. Their friendship had started from the third visit Pollyanna
had made, the one after she had told Mrs. Snow of the game. Mrs. Snow
herself was playing the game now, with Pollyanna. To be sure, she was
not playing it very well--she had been sorry for everything for so long,
that it was not easy to be glad for anything now. But under Pollyanna's
cheery instructions and merry laughter at her mistakes, she was learning
fast. To-day, even, to Pollyanna's huge delight, she had said that she
was glad Pollyanna brought calf's-foot jelly, because that was just what
she had been wanting--she did not know that Milly, at the front door,
had told Pollyanna that the minister's wife had already that day sent
over a great bowlful of that same kind of jelly.
Pollyanna was thinking of this now when suddenly she saw the boy.
The boy was sitting in a disconsolate little heap by the roadside,
whittling half-heartedly at a small stick.
“Hullo,” smiled Pollyanna, engagingly.
The boy glanced up, but he looked away again, at once.
“Hullo yourself,” he mumbled.
Pollyanna laughed.
“Now you don't look as if you'd be glad even for calf's-foot jelly,” she
chuckled, stopping before him.
The boy stirred restlessly, gave her a surprised look, and began to
whittle again at his stick, with the dull, broken-bladed knife in his
hand.
Pollyanna hesitated, then dropped herself comfortably down on the grass
near him. In spite of Pollyanna's brave assertion that she was “used
to Ladies' Aiders,” and “didn't mind,” she had sighed at times for some
companion of her own age. Hence her determination to make the most of
this one.
“My name's Pollyanna Whittier,” she began pleasantly. “What's yours?”
Again the boy stirred restlessly. He even almost got to his feet. But he
settled back.
“Jimmy Bean,” he grunted with ungracious indifference.
“Good! Now we're introduced. I'm glad you did your part--some folks
don't, you know. I live at Miss Polly Harrington's house. Where do you
live?”
“Nowhere.”
“Nowhere! Why, you can't do that--everybody lives somewhere,” asserted
Pollyanna.
“Well, I don't--just now. I'm huntin' up a new place.”
“Oh! Where is it?”
The boy regarded her with scornful eyes.
“Silly! As if I'd be a-huntin' for it--if I knew!”
Pollyanna tossed her head a little. This was not a nice boy, and she
did not like to be called “silly.” Still, he was somebody besides--old
folks. “Where did you live--before?” she queried.
“Well, if you ain't the beat'em for askin' questions!” sighed the boy
impatiently.
“I have to be,” retorted Pollyanna calmly, “else I couldn't find out a
thing about you. If you'd talk more I wouldn't talk so much.”
The boy gave a short laugh. It was a sheepish laugh, and not quite a
willing one; but his face looked a little pleasanter when he spoke this
time.
“All right then--here goes! I'm Jimmy Bean, and I'm ten years old goin'
on eleven. I come last year ter live at the Orphans' Home; but they've
got so many kids there ain't much room for me, an' I wa'n't never
wanted, anyhow, I don't believe. So I've quit. I'm goin' ter live
somewheres else--but I hain't found the place, yet. I'd LIKE a
home--jest a common one, ye know, with a mother in it, instead of
a Matron. If ye has a home, ye has folks; an' I hain't had folks
since--dad died. So I'm a-huntin' now. I've tried four houses, but--they
didn't want me--though I said I expected ter work, 'course. There! Is
that all you want ter know?” The boy's voice had broken a little over
the last two sentences.
“Why, what a shame!” sympathized Pollyanna. “And didn't there anybody
want you? O dear! I know just how you feel, because after--after my
father died, too, there wasn't anybody but the Ladies' Aid for me, until
Aunt Polly said she'd take--” Pollyanna stopped abruptly. The dawning of
a wonderful idea began to show in her face.
“Oh, I know just the place for you,” she cried. “Aunt Polly'll take
you--I know she will! Didn't she take me? And didn't she take Fluffy
and Buffy, when they didn't have any one to love them, or any place to
go?--and they're only cats and dogs. Oh, come, I know Aunt Polly'll take
you! You don't know how good and kind she is!”
Jimmy Bean's thin little face brightened.
“Honest Injun? Would she, now? I'd work, ye know, an' I'm real strong!”
He bared a small, bony arm.
“Of course she would! Why, my Aunt Polly is the nicest lady in the
world--now that my mama has gone to be a Heaven angel. And there's
rooms--heaps of 'em,” she continued, springing to her feet, and tugging
at his arm. “It's an awful big house. Maybe, though,” she added a little
anxiously, as they hurried on, “maybe you'll have to sleep in the attic
room. I did, at first. But there's screens there now, so 'twon't be so
hot, and the flies can't get in, either, to bring in the germ-things on
their feet. Did you know about that? It's perfectly lovely! Maybe she'll
let you read the book if you're good--I mean, if you're bad. And you've
got freckles, too,”--with a critical glance--“so you'll be glad there
isn't any looking-glass; and the outdoor picture is nicer than any
wall-one could be, so you won't mind sleeping in that room at all, I'm
sure,” panted Pollyanna, finding suddenly that she needed the rest of
her breath for purposes other than talking.
“Gorry!” exclaimed Jimmy Bean tersely and uncomprehendingly, but
admiringly. Then he added: “I shouldn't think anybody who could talk
like that, runnin', would need ter ask no questions ter fill up time
with!”
Pollyanna laughed.
“Well, anyhow, you can be glad of that,” she retorted; “for when I'm
talking, YOU don't have to!”
When the house was reached, Pollyanna unhesitatingly piloted her
companion straight into the presence of her amazed aunt.
“Oh, Aunt Polly,” she triumphed, “just look a-here! I've got something
ever so much nicer, even, than Fluffy and Buffy for you to bring up.
It's a real live boy. He won't mind a bit sleeping in the attic, at
first, you know, and he says he'll work; but I shall need him the most
of the time to play with, I reckon.”
Miss Polly grew white, then very red. She did not quite understand; but
she thought she understood enough.
“Pollyanna, what does this mean? Who is this dirty little boy? Where did
you find him?” she demanded sharply.
The “dirty little boy” fell back a step and looked toward the door.
Pollyanna laughed merrily.
“There, if I didn't forget to tell you his name! I'm as bad as the Man.
And he is dirty, too, isn't he?--I mean, the boy is--just like Fluffy
and Buffy were when you took them in. But I reckon he'll improve all
right by washing, just as they did, and--Oh, I 'most forgot again,” she
broke off with a laugh. “This is Jimmy Bean, Aunt Polly.”
“Well, what is he doing here?”
“Why, Aunt Polly, I just told you!” Pollyanna's eyes were wide with
surprise. “He's for you. I brought him home--so he could live here, you
know. He wants a home and folks. I told him how good you were to me,
and to Fluffy and Buffy, and that I knew you would be to him, because of
course he's even nicer than cats and dogs.”
Miss Polly dropped back in her chair and raised a shaking hand to her
throat. The old helplessness was threatening once more to overcome her.
With a visible struggle, however, Miss Polly pulled herself suddenly
erect.
“That will do, Pollyanna. This is a little the most absurd thing you've
done yet. As if tramp cats and mangy dogs weren't bad enough but you
must needs bring home ragged little beggars from the street, who--”
There was a sudden stir from the boy. His eyes flashed and his chin came
up. With two strides of his sturdy little legs he confronted Miss Polly
fearlessly.
“I ain't a beggar, marm, an' I don't want nothin' o' you. I was
cal'latin' ter work, of course, fur my board an' keep. I wouldn't have
come ter your old house, anyhow, if this 'ere girl hadn't 'a' made me,
a-tellin' me how you was so good an' kind that you'd be jest dyin' ter
take me in. So, there!” And he wheeled about and stalked from the room
with a dignity that would have been absurd had it not been so pitiful.
“Oh, Aunt Polly,” choked Pollyanna. “Why, I thought you'd be GLAD to
have him here! I'm sure, I should think you'd be glad--”
Miss Polly raised her hand with a peremptory gesture of silence. Miss
Polly's nerves had snapped at last. The “good and kind” of the boy's
words were still ringing in her ears, and the old helplessness was
almost upon her, she knew. Yet she rallied her forces with the last atom
of her will power.
“Pollyanna,” she cried sharply, “WILL you stop using that everlasting
word 'glad'! It's 'glad'--'glad'--'glad' from morning till night until I
think I shall grow wild!”
From sheer amazement Pollyanna's jaw dropped.
“Why, Aunt Polly,” she breathed, “I should think you'd be glad to have
me gl--Oh!” she broke off, clapping her hand to her lips and hurrying
blindly from the room.
Before the boy had reached the end of the driveway, Pollyanna overtook
him.
“Boy! Boy! Jimmy Bean, I want you to know how--how sorry I am,” she
panted, catching him with a detaining hand.
“Sorry nothin'! I ain't blamin' you,” retorted the boy, sullenly. “But I
ain't no beggar!” he added, with sudden spirit.
“Of course you aren't! But you mustn't blame auntie,” appealed
Pollyanna. “Probably I didn't do the introducing right, anyhow; and
I reckon I didn't tell her much who you were. She is good and kind,
really--she's always been; but I probably didn't explain it right. I do
wish I could find some place for you, though!”
The boy shrugged his shoulders and half turned away.
“Never mind. I guess I can find one myself. I ain't no beggar, you
know.”
Pollyanna was frowning thoughtfully. Of a sudden she turned, her face
illumined.
“Say, I'll tell you what I WILL do! The Ladies' Aid meets this
afternoon. I heard Aunt Polly say so. I'll lay your case before them.
That's what father always did, when he wanted anything--educating the
heathen and new carpets, you know.”
The boy turned fiercely.
“Well, I ain't a heathen or a new carpet. Besides--what is a Ladies'
Aid?”
Pollyanna stared in shocked disapproval.
“Why, Jimmy Bean, wherever have you been brought up?--not to know what a
Ladies' Aid is!”
“Oh, all right--if you ain't tellin',” grunted the boy, turning and
beginning to walk away indifferently.
Pollyanna sprang to his side at once.
“It's--it's--why, it's just a lot of ladies that meet and sew and give
suppers and raise money and--and talk; that's what a Ladies' Aid is.
They're awfully kind--that is, most of mine was, back home. I haven't
seen this one here, but they're always good, I reckon. I'm going to tell
them about you this afternoon.”
Again the boy turned fiercely.
“Not much you will! Maybe you think I'm goin' ter stand 'round an' hear
a whole LOT o' women call me a beggar, instead of jest ONE! Not much!”
“Oh, but you wouldn't be there,” argued Pollyanna, quickly. “I'd go
alone, of course, and tell them.”
“You would?”
“Yes; and I'd tell it better this time,” hurried on Pollyanna, quick to
see the signs of relenting in the boy's face. “And there'd be some of
'em, I know, that would be glad to give you a home.”
“I'd work--don't forget ter say that,” cautioned the boy.
“Of course not,” promised Pollyanna, happily, sure now that her point
was gained. “Then I'll let you know to-morrow.”
“Where?”
“By the road--where I found you to-day; near Mrs. Snow's house.”
“All right. I'll be there.” The boy paused before he went on slowly:
“Maybe I'd better go back, then, for ter-night, ter the Home. You see
I hain't no other place ter stay; and--and I didn't leave till this
mornin'. I slipped out. I didn't tell 'em I wasn't comin' back, else
they'd pretend I couldn't come--though I'm thinkin' they won't do no
worryin' when I don't show up sometime. They ain't like FOLKS, ye know.
They don't CARE!”
“I know,” nodded Pollyanna, with understanding eyes. “But I'm sure, when
I see you to-morrow, I'll have just a common home and folks that do care
all ready for you. Good-by!” she called brightly, as she turned back
toward the house.
In the sitting-room window at that moment, Miss Polly, who had been
watching the two children, followed with sombre eyes the boy until a
bend of the road hid him from sight. Then she sighed, turned, and walked
listlesly up-stairs--and Miss Polly did not usually move listlessly. In
her ears still was the boy's scornful “you was so good and kind.” In her
heart was a curious sense of desolation--as of something lost.