know yet, and we haven’t got everything settled; so I suppose that is why he wanted to see me this afternoon, sure.”

The doctor sat suddenly erect. There was an odd smile on his lips.

“Yes; I can well imagine that Mr. John Pendleton does—want to see you, Pollyanna,” he nodded, as he pulled his horse to a stop before the door.

“There’s Aunt Polly now in the window,” cried Pollyanna; then, a second later: “Why, no, she isn’t—but I thought I saw her!”

“No; she isn’t there—now,” said the doctor, His lips had suddenly lost their smile.

Pollyanna found a very nervous John Pendleton waiting for her that afternoon.

“Pollyanna,” he began at once. “I’ve been trying all night to puzzle out what you meant by all that, yesterday—about my wanting your Aunt Polly’s hand and heart here all those years. What did you mean?”

“Why, because you were lovers, you know once; and I was so glad you still felt that way now.”

“Lovers!—your Aunt Polly and I?”

At the obvious surprise in the man’s voice, Pollyanna opened wide her eyes.”

“Why, Mr. Pendleton, Nancy said you were!”

The man gave a short little laugh.

“Indeed! Well, I’m afraid I shall have to say that Nancy—didn’t know.”

“Then you—weren’t lovers? Pollyanna’s Voice was tragic with dismay.

“Never!”

“And it isn’t all coming out like a book?”

There was no answer. The man’s eyes were moodily fixed out the window.

“O dear! And it was all going so splendidly,” almost sobbed Pollyanna. “I’d have been so glad to come—with Aunt Polly.”

“And you won’t—now?” The man asked the question without turning his head.

“Of course not! I’m Aunt Polly’s.”

The man turned now, almost fiercely.

“Before you were hers, Pollyanna, you were—your mother’s. And—it was your mother’s hand and heart that I wanted long years ago.”

“My mother’s!”

“Yes. I had not meant to tell you, but perhaps it’s better, after all, that I do—now.” John Pendleton’s face had grown very white. He was speaking with evident difficulty. Pollyanna, her eyes wide and frightened, and her lips parted, was gazing at him fixedly. “I loved your mother; but she—didn’t love me. And after a time she went away with—your father. I did not know until then how much I did—care. The whole world suddenly seemed to turn black under my fingers, and—But, never mind. For long years I have been a