“All right. I’ll ask her,” she said wistfully. “Of course I don’t mean that I wouldn’t like to live here with you, Mr. Pendleton, but—” She did not complete her sentence. There was a moment’s silence, then she added: “Well, anyhow, I’m glad I didn’t tell her yesterday;—’cause then I supposed she was wanted, too.”

John Pendleton smiled grimly.

“Well, yes, Pollyanna; I guess it is just as well you didn’t mention it—yesterday.”

“I didn’t—only to the doctor; and of course he doesn’t count.”

“The doctor!” cried John Pendleton, turning quickly. “Not—Dr.—Chilton?”

“Yes; when he came to tell me you wanted to see me today, you know.”

“Well, of all the—” muttered the man, falling back in his chair. Then he sat up with sudden interest. “And what did Dr. Chilton say?” he asked.

Pollyanna frowned thoughtfully.

“Why, I don’t remember. Not much, I reckon. Oh, he did say he could well imagine you did want to see me.”

“Oh, did he, indeed!” answered John Pendleton. And Pollyanna wondered why he gave that sudden queer little laugh.


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