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166 ing but prattle of Pollyanna ever since you came home from Boston and found she was expected. I thought you were dying to see Pollyanna."

The other leaned forward with curious intentness.

"That's exactly it! See? You said it a minute ago. It's just as if yesterday wild horses couldn't keep me from seeing Pollyanna; and now, to-day, when I know she's coming—they couldn't drag me to see her."

"Why, Jim!"

At the shocked incredulity on John Pendleton's face, the younger man fell back in his chair with an embarrassed laugh.

"Yes, I know. It sounds nutty, and I don't expect I can make you understand. But, somehow, I don't think—I ever wanted Pollyanna to grow up. She was such a dear, just as she was. I like to think of her as I saw her last, her earnest, freckled little face, her yellow pigtails, her tearful: 'Oh, yes, I'm glad I'm going; but I think I shall be a little gladder when I come back.' That's the last time I saw her. You know we were in Egypt that time she was here four years ago."

"I know. I see exactly what you mean, too. I think I felt the same way—till I saw her last winter in Rome."

The other turned eagerly.

"Sure enough, you have seen her! Tell me about her."

A shrewd twinkle came into John Pendleton's eyes.