Pollyanna Grows Up Eleanor H. Porter (booksvooks .TXT) 📖

He loved her years ago, but she did not care for him at all, I understand. She had another lover⁠—a minister, and she married him instead⁠—Pollyanna’s father.”

“Oh-h!” breathed Mrs. Carew, leaning forward suddenly in her chair. “And is that why he’s⁠—never married?”

“Yes,” avouched Jimmy. “So you see there’s really nothing to that idea at all⁠—that he cares for Pollyanna. It was her mother.”

“On the contrary I think it makes a whole lot to that idea,” declared Jamie, wagging his head wisely. “I think it makes my case all the stronger. Listen. He once loved the mother. He couldn’t have her. What more absolutely natural than that he should love the daughter now⁠—and win her?”

“Oh, Jamie, you incorrigible spinner of tales!” reproached Mrs. Carew, with a nervous laugh. “This is no ten-penny novel. It’s real life. She’s too young for him. He ought to marry a woman, not a girl⁠—that is, if he marries anyone, I mean,” she stammeringly corrected, a sudden flood of color in her face.

“Perhaps; but what if it happens to be a girl that he loves?” argued Jamie, stubbornly. “And, really, just stop to think. Have we had a single letter from her that hasn’t told of his being there? And you know how he’s always talking of Pollyanna in his letters.”

Mrs. Carew got suddenly to her feet.

“Yes, I know,” she murmured, with an odd little gesture, as if throwing something distasteful aside. “But⁠—” She did not finish her sentence, and a moment later she had left the room.

When she came back in five minutes she found, much to her surprise, that Jimmy had gone.

“Why, I thought he was going with us on the girls’ picnic!” she exclaimed.

“So did I,” frowned Jamie. “But the first thing I knew he was explaining or apologizing or something about unexpectedly having to leave town, and he’d come to tell you he couldn’t go with us. Anyhow, the next thing I knew he’d gone. You see,”⁠—Jamie’s eyes were glowing again⁠—“I don’t think I knew quite what he did say, anyway. I had something else to think of.” And he jubilantly spread before her the two letters which all the time he had still kept in his hands.

“Oh, Jamie!” breathed Mrs. Carew, when she had read the letters through. “How proud I am of you!” Then suddenly her eyes filled with tears at the look of ineffable joy that illumined Jamie’s face.

XXIX Jimmy and John

It was a very determined, square-jawed young man that alighted at the Beldingsville station late that Saturday night. And it was an even more determined, square-jawed young man that, before ten o’clock the next morning, stalked through the Sunday-quiet village streets and climbed the hill to the Harrington homestead. Catching sight of a loved and familiar flaxen coil of hair on a well-poised little head just disappearing into the summerhouse, the young man ignored the conventional front steps and doorbell, crossed the lawn, and strode through the garden paths until he came face to face with the owner of the flaxen coil of hair.

“Jimmy!” gasped Pollyanna, falling back with startled eyes. “Why, where did you⁠—come from?”

“Boston. Last night. I had to see you, Pollyanna.”

“To⁠—see⁠—m-me?” Pollyanna was plainly fencing for time to regain her composure. Jimmy looked so big and strong and dear there in the door of the summerhouse that she feared her eyes had been surprised into a telltale admiration, if not more.

“Yes, Pollyanna; I wanted⁠—that is, I thought⁠—I mean, I feared⁠—Oh, hang it all, Pollyanna, I can’t beat about the bush like this. I’ll have to come straight to the point. It’s just this. I stood aside before, but I won’t now. It isn’t a case any longer of fairness. He isn’t crippled like Jamie. He’s got feet and hands and a head like mine, and if he wins he’ll have to win in a fair fight. I’ve got some rights!”

Pollyanna stared frankly.

“Jimmy Bean Pendleton, whatever in the world are you talking about?” she demanded.

The young man laughed shamefacedly.

“No wonder you don’t know. It wasn’t very lucid, was it? But I don’t think I’ve been really lucid myself since yesterday⁠—when I found out from Jamie himself.”

“Found out⁠—from Jamie!”

“Yes. It was the prize that started it. You see, he’d just got one, and⁠—”

“Oh, I know about that,” interrupted Pollyanna, eagerly. “And wasn’t it splendid? Just think⁠—the first one⁠—three thousand dollars! I wrote him a letter last night. Why, when I saw his name, and realized it was Jamie⁠—our Jamie⁠—I was so excited I forgot all about looking for my name, and even when I couldn’t find mine at all, and knew that I hadn’t got any⁠—I mean, I was so excited and pleased for Jamie that I⁠—I forgot⁠—er⁠—everything else,” corrected Pollyanna, throwing a dismayed glance into Jimmy’s face, and feverishly trying to cover up the partial admission she had made.

Jimmy, however, was too intent on his own problem to notice hers.

“Yes, yes, ’twas fine, of course. I’m glad he got it. But Pollyanna, it was what he said afterward that I mean. You see, until then I’d thought that⁠—that he cared⁠—that you cared⁠—for each other, I mean; and⁠—”

“You thought that Jamie and I cared for each other!” exclaimed Pollyanna, into whose face now was stealing a soft, shy color. “Why, Jimmy, it’s Sadie Dean. ’Twas always Sadie Dean. He used to talk of her to me by the hour. I think she likes him, too.”

“Good! I hope she does; but, you see, I didn’t know. I thought ’twas Jamie⁠—and you. And I thought that because he was⁠—was a cripple, you know, that it wouldn’t be fair if I⁠—if I stayed around and tried to win you myself.”

Pollyanna stooped suddenly, and picked up a leaf at her feet. When she rose, her face was turned quite away.

“A fellow can’t⁠—can’t feel square, you know, running a race with a chap that⁠—that’s handicapped from the start. So I⁠—I just stayed away and gave him his chance; though it ’most broke my heart to do it, little girl. It