Page:Pollyanna Grows Up.djvu/64

46 "But he must be somewhere."

"He may be—dead, Pollyanna."

Pollyanna gave a quick cry.

"Oh, no, Mrs. Carew. Please don't say that! Let's imagine he's alive. We can do that, and that'll help; and when we get him imagined alive we can just as well imagine we're going to find him. And that'll help a whole lot more."

"But I'm afraid he's—dead, Pollyanna," choked Mrs. Carew.

"You don't know it for sure, do you?" besought the little girl, anxiously.

"N-no."

"Well, then, you're just imagining it," maintained Pollyanna, in triumph. "And if you can imagine him dead, you can just as well imagine him alive, and it'll be a whole lot nicer while you're doing it. Don't you see? And some day, I'm just sure you'll find him. Why, Mrs. Carew, you can play the game now! You can play it on Jamie. You can be glad every day, for every day brings you just one day nearer to the time when you're going to find him. See?"

But Mrs. Carew did not "see." She rose drearily to her feet and said:

"No, no, child! You don't understand—you don't understand. Now run away, please, and read, or do anything you like. My head aches. I'm going to lie down."

And Pollyanna, with a troubled, sober face, slowly left the room.