Pollyanna Grows Up

  CHAPTER XIV

  JIMMY AND THE GREEN-EYED MONSTER

  This time Beldingsville did not literally welcome Pollyanna home withbrass bands and bunting--perhaps because the hour of her expectedarrival was known to but few of the townspeople. But there certainlywas no lack of joyful greetings on the part of everybody from themoment she stepped from the railway train with her Aunt Polly and Dr.Chilton. Nor did Pollyanna lose any time in starting on a round offly-away minute calls on all her old friends. Indeed, for the next fewdays, according to Nancy, "There wasn't no putting of your finger onher anywheres, for by the time you'd got your finger down she wa'n'tthere."

  And always, everywhere she went, Pollyanna met the question: "Well,how did you like Boston?" Perhaps to no one did she answer this morefully than she did to Mr. Pendleton. As was usually the case when thisquestion was put to her, she began her reply with a troubled frown.

  "Oh, I liked it--I just loved it--some of it."

  "But not all of it?" smiled Mr. Pendleton.

  "No. There's parts of it--Oh, I was glad to be there," she explainedhastily. "I had a perfectly lovely time, and lots of things were soqueer and different, you know--like eating dinner at night instead ofnoons, when you ought to eat it. But everybody was so good to me, andI saw such a lot of wonderful things--Bunker Hill, and the PublicGarden, and the Seeing Boston autos, and miles of pictures and statuesand store-windows and streets that didn't have any end. And folks. Inever saw such a lot of folks."

  "Well, I'm sure--I thought you liked folks," commented the man.

  "I do." Pollyanna frowned again and pondered. "But what's the use ofsuch a lot of them if you don't know 'em? And Mrs. Carew wouldn't letme. She didn't know 'em herself. She said folks didn't, down there."

  There was a slight pause, then, with a sigh, Pollyanna resumed.

  "I reckon maybe that's the part I don't like the most--that folksdon't know each other. It would be such a lot nicer if they did! Why,just think, Mr. Pendleton, there are lots of folks that live on dirty,narrow streets, and don't even have beans and fish balls to eat, northings even as good as missionary barrels to wear. Then there areother folks--Mrs. Carew, and a whole lot like her--that live inperfectly beautiful houses, and have more things to eat and wear thanthey know what to do with. Now if THOSE folks only knew the otherfolks--" But Mr. Pendleton interrupted with a laugh.

  "My dear child, did it ever occur to you that these people don't CAREto know each other?" he asked quizzically.

  "Oh, but some of them do," maintained Pollyanna, in eager defense."Now there's Sadie Dean--she sells bows, lovely bows in a bigstore--she WANTS to know people; and I introduced her to Mrs. Carew,and we had her up to the house, and we had Jamie and lots of othersthere, too; and she was SO glad to know them! And that's what made methink that if only a lot of Mrs. Carew's kind could know the otherkind--but of course _I_ couldn't do the introducing. I didn't knowmany of them myself, anyway. But if they COULD know each other, sothat the rich people could give the poor people part of their money--"

  But again Mr. Pendleton interrupted with a laugh.

  "Oh, Pollyanna, Pollyanna," he chuckled; "I'm afraid you're gettinginto pretty deep water. You'll be a rabid little socialist before youknow it."

  "A--what?" questioned the little girl, dubiously. "I--I don't think Iknow what a socialist is. But I know what being SOCIABLE is--and Ilike folks that are that. If it's anything like that, I don't mindbeing one, a mite. I'd like to be one."

  "I don't doubt it, Pollyanna," smiled the man. "But when it comes tothis scheme of yours for the wholesale distribution of wealth--you'vegot a problem on your hands that you might have difficulty with."

  Pollyanna drew a long sigh.

  "I know," she nodded. "That's the way Mrs. Carew talked. She says Idon't understand; that 'twould--er--pauperize her and beindiscriminate and pernicious, and--Well, it was SOMETHING like that,anyway," bridled the little girl, aggrievedly, as the man began tolaugh. "And, anyway, I DON'T understand why some folks should havesuch a lot, and other folks shouldn't have anything; and I DON'T likeit. And if I ever have a lot I shall just give some of it to folks whodon't have any, even if it does make me pauperized and pernicious,and--" But Mr. Pendleton was laughing so hard now that Pollyanna,after a moment's struggle, surrendered and laughed with him.

  "Well, anyway," she reiterated, when she had caught her breath, "Idon't understand it, all the same."

  "No, dear, I'm afraid you don't," agreed the man, growing suddenlyvery grave and tender-eyed; "nor any of the rest of us, for thatmatter. But, tell me," he added, after a minute, "who is this Jamieyou've been talking so much about since you came?"

  And Pollyanna told him.

  In talking of Jamie, Pollyanna lost her worried, baffled look.Pollyanna loved to talk of Jamie. Here was something she understood.Here was no problem that had to deal with big, fearsome-soundingwords. Besides, in this particular instance--would not Mr. Pendletonbe especially interested in Mrs. Carew's taking the boy into her home,for who better than himself could understand the need of a child'spresence?

  For that matter, Pollyanna talked to everybody about Jamie. Sheassumed that everybody would be as interested as she herself was. Onmost occasions she was not disappointed in the interest shown; but oneday she met with a surprise. It came through Jimmy Pendleton.

  "Say, look a-here," he demanded one afternoon, irritably. "Wasn'tthere ANYBODY else down to Boston but just that everlasting 'Jamie'?"

  "Why, Jimmy Bean, what do you mean?" cried Pollyanna.

  The boy lifted his chin a little.

  "I'm not Jimmy Bean. I'm Jimmy Pendleton. And I mean that I shouldthink, from your talk, that there wasn't ANYBODY down to Boston butjust that loony boy who calls them birds and squirrels 'LadyLancelot,' and all that tommyrot."

  "Why, Jimmy Be--Pendleton!" gasped Pollyanna. Then, with some spirit:"Jamie isn't loony! He is a very nice boy. And he knows a lot--booksand stories! Why, he can MAKE stories right out of his own head!Besides, it isn't 'Lady Lancelot,'--it's 'Sir Lancelot.' If you knewhalf as much as he does you'd know that, too!" she finished, withflashing eyes.

  Jimmy Pendleton flushed miserably and looked utterly wretched. Growingmore and more jealous moment by moment, still doggedly he held hisground.

  "Well, anyhow," he scoffed, "I don't think much of his name. 'Jamie'!Humph!--sounds sissy! And I know somebody else that said so, too."

  "Who was it?"

  There was no answer.

  "WHO WAS IT?" demanded Pollyanna, more peremptorily.

  "Dad." The boy's voice was sullen.

  "Your--dad?" repeated Pollyanna, in amazement. "Why, how could he knowJamie?"

  "He didn't. 'Twasn't about that Jamie. 'Twas about me." The boy stillspoke sullenly, with his eyes turned away. Yet there was a curioussoftness in his voice that was always noticeable whenever he spoke ofhis father.

  "YOU!"

  "Yes. 'Twas just a little while before he died. We stopped 'most aweek with a farmer. Dad helped about the hayin'--and I did, too, some.The farmer's wife was awful good to me, and pretty quick she wascallin' me 'Jamie.' I don't know why, but she just did. And one dayfather heard her. He got awful mad--so mad that I remembered italways--what he said. He said 'Jamie' wasn't no sort of a name for aboy, and that no son of his should ever be called it. He said 'twas asissy name, and he hated it. 'Seems so I never saw him so mad as hewas that night. He wouldn't even stay to finish the work, but him andme took to the road again that night. I was kind of sorry, 'cause Iliked her--the farmer's wife, I mean. She was good to me."

  Pollyanna nodded, all sympathy and interest. It was not often thatJimmy said much of that mysterious past life of his, before she hadknown him.

  "And what happened next?" she prompted. Pollyanna had, for the moment,forgotten all about the original subject of the controversy--the name"Jamie" that was dubbed "sissy."

  The boy sighed.

  "We just went on till we found another place. And 'twas theredad--died. Then they pu
t me in the 'sylum."

  "And then you ran away and I found you that day, down by Mrs. Snow's,"exulted Pollyanna, softly. "And I've known you ever since."

  "Oh, yes--and you've known me ever since," repeated Jimmy--but in afar different voice: Jimmy had suddenly come back to the present, andto his grievance. "But, then, I ain't 'JAMIE,' you know," he finishedwith scornful emphasis, as he turned loftily away, leaving adistressed, bewildered Pollyanna behind him.

  "Well, anyway, I can be glad he doesn't always act like this," sighedthe little girl, as she mournfully watched the sturdy, boyish figurewith its disagreeable, amazing swagger.