In kitchens and sitting rooms, and over back-yard fences women talked of it, and wept openly. On street corners and in store lounging-places the men talked, too, and wept--though not so openly. And neither the talking nor the weeping grew less when fast on the heels of the news itself, came Nancy's pitiful story that Pollyanna, face to face with what had come to her, was bemoaning most of all the fact that she could not play the game; that she could not now be glad over--anything.
It was then that the same thought must have, in some way, come to Pollyanna's friends. At all events, almost at once, the mistress of the Harrington homestead, greatly to her surprise, began to receive calls: calls from people she knew, and people she did not know; calls from men, women, and children--many of whom Miss Polly had not supposed that her niece knew at all.
Some came in and sat down for a stiff five or ten minutes. Some stood awkwardly on the porch steps, fumbling with hats or hand-bags, according to their sex. Some brought a book, a bunch of flowers, or a dainty to tempt the palate. Some cried frankly.
Some turned their backs and blew their noses furiously. But all inquired very anxiously for the little injured girl; and all sent to her some message--and it was these messages which, after a time, stirred Miss Polly to action.
First came Mr. John Pendleton. He came without his crutches to-day.
"I don't need to tell you how shocked I am," he began almost harshly. "But can--nothing be done?"
Miss Polly gave a gesture of despair.
"Oh, we're 'doing,' of course, all the time. Dr. Mead prescribed certain treatments and medicines that might help, and Dr. Warren is carrying them out to the letter, of course. But--Dr. Mead held out almost no hope."
John Pendleton rose abruptly--though he had but just come. His face was white, and his mouth was set into stern lines. Miss Polly, looking at him, knew very well why he felt that he could not stay longer in her presence. At the door he turned.
"I have a message for Pollyanna," he said. "Will you tell her, please, that I have seen Jimmy Bean and--that he's going to be my boy hereafter. Tell her I thought she would be--GLAD to know. I shall adopt him, probably."
For a brief moment Miss Polly lost her usual well-bred self-control.
"You will adopt Jimmy Bean!" she gasped.
The man lifted his chin a little.
"Yes. I think Pollyanna will understand. You will tell her I thought she would be--GLAD!"
"Why, of--of course," faltered Miss Polly.
"Thank you," bowed John Pendleton, as he turned to go.
In the middle of the floor Miss Polly stood, silent and amazed, still looking after the man who had just left her. Even yet she could scarcely believe what her ears had heard. John Pendleton ADOPT Jimmy Bean? John Pendleton, wealthy, independent, morose, reputed to be miserly and supremely selfish, to adopt a little boy--and such a little boy?
With a somewhat dazed face Miss Polly went up-stairs to Pollyanna's room.
"Pollyanna, I have a message for you from Mr. John Pendleton. He has just been here. He says to tell you he has taken Jimmy Bean for his little boy. He said he thought you'd be glad to know it."
Pollyanna's wistful little face flamed into sudden joy.
"Glad? GLAD? Well, I reckon I am glad! Oh, Aunt Polly, I've so wanted to find a place for Jimmy--and that's such a lovely place!
Besides, I'm so glad for Mr. Pendleton, too. You see, now he'll have the child's presence."
"The--what?"
Pollyanna colored painfully. She had forgotten that she had never told her aunt of Mr. Pendleton's desire to adopt her--and certainly she would not wish to tell her now that she had ever thought for a minute of leaving her--this dear Aunt Polly!
"The child's presence," stammered Pollyanna, hastily. "Mr.
Pendleton told me once, you see, that only a woman's hand and heart or a child's presence could make a--a home. And now he's got it--the child's presence."
"Oh, I--see," said Miss Polly very gently; and she did see--more than Pollyanna realized. She saw something of the pressure that was probably brought to bear on Pollyanna herself at the time John Pendleton was asking HER to be the "child's presence," which was to transform his great pile of gray stone into a home. "I see," she finished, her eyes stinging with sudden tears.
Pollyanna, fearful that her aunt might ask further embarrassing questions, hastened to lead the conversation away from the Pendleton house and its master.
"Dr. Chilton says so, too--that it takes a woman's hand and heart, or a child's presence, to make a home, you know," she remarked.
Miss Polly turned with a start.
"DR. CHILTON! How do you know--that?"
"He told me so. 'Twas when he said he lived in just rooms, you know--not a home."
Miss Polly did not answer. Her eyes were out the window.
"So I asked him why he didn't get 'em.--a woman's hand and heart, and have a home."
"Pollyanna!" Miss Polly had turned sharply. Her cheeks showed a sudden color.
"Well, I did. He looked so--so sorrowful."
"What did he--say?" Miss Polly asked the question as if in spite of some force within her that was urging her not to ask it.
"He didn't say anything for a minute; then he said very low that you couldn't always get 'em for the asking."
There was a brief silence. Miss Polly's eyes had turned again to the window. Her cheeks were still unnaturally pink.
Pollyanna sighed.
"He wants one, anyhow, I know, and I wish he could have one."
"Why, Pollyanna, HOW do you know?"
"Because, afterwards, on another day, he said something else. He said that low, too, but I heard him. He said that he'd give all the world if he did have one woman's hand and heart. Why, Aunt Polly, what's the matter?" Aunt Polly had risen hurriedly and gone to the window.
"Nothing, dear. I was changing the position of this prism," said Aunt Polly, whose whole face now was aflame.
