Pollyanna Grows Up

  CHAPTER IX

  PLANS AND PLOTTINGS

  On the way home Pollyanna made joyous plans. To-morrow, in some way orother, Mrs. Carew must be persuaded to go with her for a walk in thePublic Garden. Just how this was to be brought about Pollyanna did notknow; but brought about it must be.

  To tell Mrs. Carew plainly that she had found Jamie, and wanted her togo to see him, was out of the question. There was, of course, a barechance that this might not be her Jamie; and if it were not, and ifshe had thus raised in Mrs. Carew false hopes, the result might bedisastrous. Pollyanna knew, from what Mary had told her, that twicealready Mrs. Carew had been made very ill by the great disappointmentof following alluring clues that had led to some boy very differentfrom her dead sister's son. So Pollyanna knew that she could not tellMrs. Carew why she wanted her to go to walk to-morrow in the PublicGarden. But there would be a way, declared Pollyanna to herself as shehappily hurried homeward.

  Fate, however, as it happened, once more intervened in the shape of aheavy rainstorm; and Pollyanna did not have to more than look out ofdoors the next morning to realize that there would be no Public Gardenstroll that day. Worse yet, neither the next day nor the next saw theclouds dispelled; and Pollyanna spent all three afternoons wanderingfrom window to window, peering up into the sky, and anxiouslydemanding of every one: "DON'T you think it looks a LITTLE likeclearing up?"

  So unusual was this behavior on the part of the cheery little girl,and so irritating was the constant questioning, that at last Mrs.Carew lost her patience.

  "For pity's sake, child, what is the trouble?" she cried. "I neverknew you to fret so about the weather. Where's that wonderful gladgame of yours to-day?"

  Pollyanna reddened and looked abashed.

  "Dear me, I reckon maybe I did forget the game this time," sheadmitted. "And of course there IS something about it I can be gladfor, if I'll only hunt for it. I can be glad that--that it will HAVEto stop raining sometime 'cause God said he WOULDN'T send anotherflood. But you see, I did so want it to be pleasant to-day."

  "Why, especially?"

  "Oh, I--I just wanted to go to walk in the Public Garden." Pollyannawas trying hard to speak unconcernedly. "I--I thought maybe you'd liketo go with me, too." Outwardly Pollyanna was nonchalance itself.Inwardly, however, she was aquiver with excitement and suspense.

  "_I_ go to walk in the Public Garden?" queried Mrs. Carew, with browsslightly uplifted. "Thank you, no, I'm afraid not," she smiled.

  "Oh, but you--you wouldn't REFUSE!" faltered Pollyanna, in quickpanic.

  "I have refused."

  Pollyanna swallowed convulsively. She had grown really pale.

  "But, Mrs. Carew, please, PLEASE don't say you WON'T go, when it getspleasant," she begged. "You see, for a--a special reason I wanted youto go--with me--just this once."

  Mrs. Carew frowned. She opened her lips to make the "no" moredecisive; but something in Pollyanna's pleading eyes must have changedthe words, for when they came they were a reluctant acquiescence.

  "Well, well, child, have your own way. But if I promise to go, YOUmust promise not to go near the window for an hour, and not to askagain to-day if I think it's going to clear up."

  "Yes'm, I will--I mean, I won't," palpitated Pollyanna. Then, as apale shaft of light that was almost a sunbeam, came aslant through thewindow, she cried joyously: "But you DO think it IS going to--Oh!" shebroke off in dismay, and ran from the room.

  Unmistakably it "cleared up" the next morning. But, though the sunshone brightly, there was a sharp chill in the air, and by afternoon,when Pollyanna came home from school, there was a brisk wind. In spiteof protests, however, she insisted that it was a beautiful day out,and that she should be perfectly miserable if Mrs. Carew would notcome for a walk in the Public Garden. And Mrs. Carew went, thoughstill protesting.

  As might have been expected, it was a fruitless journey. Together theimpatient woman and the anxious-eyed little girl hurried shiveringlyup one path and down another. (Pollyanna, not finding the boy in hisaccustomed place, was making frantic search in every nook and cornerof the Garden. To Pollyanna it seemed that she could not have it so.Here she was in the Garden, and here with her was Mrs. Carew; but notanywhere to be found was Jamie--and yet not one word could she say toMrs. Carew.) At last, thoroughly chilled and exasperated, Mrs. Carewinsisted on going home; and despairingly Pollyanna went.

  Sorry days came to Pollyanna then. What to her was perilously near asecond deluge--but according to Mrs. Carew was merely "the usual fallrains"--brought a series of damp, foggy, cold, cheerless days, filledwith either a dreary drizzle of rain, or, worse yet, a steadydownpour. If perchance occasionally there came a day of sunshine,Pollyanna always flew to the Garden; but in vain. Jamie was neverthere. It was the middle of November now, and even the Garden itselfwas full of dreariness. The trees were bare, the benches almost empty,and not one boat was on the little pond. True, the squirrels andpigeons were there, and the sparrows were as pert as ever, but to feedthem was almost more of a sorrow than a joy, for every saucy switch ofSir Lancelot's feathery tail but brought bitter memories of the ladwho had given him his name--and who was not there.

  "And to think I didn't find out where he lived!" mourned Pollyanna toherself over and over again, as the days passed. "And he was Jamie--Ijust know he was Jamie. And now I'll have to wait and wait till springcomes, and it's warm enough for him to come here again. And then,maybe, _I_ sha'n't be coming here by that time. O dear, O dear--and heWAS Jamie, I know he was Jamie!"

  Then, one dreary afternoon, the unexpected happened. Pollyanna,passing through the upper hallway heard angry voices in the hallbelow, one of which she recognized as being Mary's, while theother--the other--

  The other voice was saying:

  "Not on yer life! It's nix on the beggin' business. Do yer get me? Iwants ter see the kid, Pollyanna. I got a message for her from--fromSir James. Now beat it, will ye, and trot out the kid, if ye don'tmind."

  With a glad little cry Pollyanna turned and fairly flew down thestairway.

  "Oh, I'm here, I'm here, I'm right here!" she panted, stumblingforward. "What is it? Did Jamie send you?"

  In her excitement she had almost flung herself with outstretched armsupon the boy when Mary intercepted a shocked, restraining hand.

  "Miss Pollyanna, Miss Pollyanna, do you mean to say you knowthis--this beggar boy?"

  The boy flushed angrily; but before he could speak Pollyannainterposed valiant championship.

  "He isn't a beggar boy. He belongs to one of my very best friends.Besides, he's the one that found me and brought me home that time Iwas lost." Then to the boy she turned with impetuous questioning."What is it? Did Jamie send you?"

  "Sure he did. He hit the hay a month ago, and he hain't been upsince."

  "He hit--what?" puzzled Pollyanna.

  "Hit the hay--went ter bed. He's sick, I mean, and he wants ter seeye. Will ye come?"

  "Sick? Oh, I'm so sorry!" grieved Pollyanna. "Of course I'll come.I'll go get my hat and coat right away."

  "Miss Pollyanna!" gasped Mary in stern disapproval. "As if Mrs. Carewwould let you go--ANYWHERE with a strange boy like this!"

  "But he isn't a strange boy," objected Pollyanna. "I've known him everso long, and I MUST go. I--"

  "What in the world is the meaning of this?" demanded Mrs. Carew icilyfrom the drawing-room doorway. "Pollyanna, who is this boy, and whatis he doing here?"

  Pollyanna turned with a quick cry.

  "Oh, Mrs. Carew, you'll let me go, won't you?"

  "Go where?"

  "To see my brother, ma'am," cut in the boy hurriedly, and with anobvious effort to be very polite. "He's sort of off his feed, ye know,and he wouldn't give me no peace till I come up--after her," with anawkward gesture toward Pollyanna. "He thinks a sight an' all of her."

  "I may go, mayn't I?" pleaded Pollyanna.

  Mrs. Carew frowned.

  "Go with this boy--YOU? Certainly not, Pollyanna! I wonder you arewild enough to think o
f it for a moment."

  "Oh, but I want you to come, too," began Pollyanna.

  "I? Absurd, child! That is impossible. You may give this boy here alittle money, if you like, but--"

  "Thank ye, ma'am, but I didn't come for money," resented the boy, hiseyes flashing. "I come for--her."

  "Yes, and Mrs. Carew, it's Jerry--Jerry Murphy, the boy that found mewhen I was lost, and brought me home," appealed Pollyanna. "NOW won'tyou let me go?"

  Mrs. Carew shook her head.

  "It is out of the question, Pollyanna."

  "But he says Ja-- --the other boy is sick, and wants me!"

  "I can't help that."

  "And I know him real well, Mrs. Carew. I do, truly. He readsbooks--lovely books, all full of knights and lords and ladies, and hefeeds the birds and squirrels and gives 'em names, and everything. Andhe can't walk, and he doesn't have enough to eat, lots of days,"panted Pollyanna; "and he's been playing my glad game for a year, anddidn't know it. And he plays it ever and ever so much better than Ido. And I've hunted and hunted for him, ever and ever so many days.Honest and truly, Mrs. Carew, I've just GOT to see him," almost sobbedPollyanna. "I can't lose him again!"

  An angry color flamed into Mrs. Carew's cheeks.

  "Pollyanna, this is sheer nonsense. I am surprised. I am amazed at youfor insisting upon doing something you know I disapprove of. I CAN NOTallow you to go with this boy. Now please let me hear no more aboutit."

  A new expression came to Pollyanna's face. With a look half-terrified,half-exalted, she lifted her chin and squarely faced Mrs. Carew.Tremulously, but determinedly, she spoke.

  "Then I'll have to tell you. I didn't mean to--till I was sure. Iwanted you to see him first. But now I've got to tell. I can't losehim again. I think, Mrs. Carew, he's--Jamie."

  "Jamie! Not--my--Jamie!" Mrs. Carew's face had grown very white.

  "Yes."

  "Impossible!"

  "I know; but, please, his name IS Jamie, and he doesn't know the otherone. His father died when he was six years old, and he can't rememberhis mother. He's twelve years old, he thinks. These folks took him inwhen his father died, and his father was queer, and didn't tell folkshis name, and--"

  But Mrs. Carew had stopped her with a gesture. Mrs. Carew was evenwhiter than before, but her eyes burned with a sudden fire.

  "We'll go at once," she said. "Mary, tell Perkins to have the car hereas soon as possible. Pollyanna, get your hat and coat. Boy, wait here,please. We'll be ready to go with you immediately." The next minuteshe had hurried up-stairs.

  In the hall the boy drew a long breath.

  "Gee whiz!" he muttered softly. "If we ain't goin' ter go in abuzz-wagon! Some class ter that! Gorry! what'll Sir James say?"