School, in some ways, was a surprise to Pollyanna; and Pollyanna, certainly, in many ways, was very much of a surprise to school. They were soon on the best of terms, however, and to her aunt Pollyanna confessed that going to school WAS living, after all—though she had had her doubts before.

 

In spite of her delight in her new work, Pollyanna did not forget her old friends. True, she could not give them quite so much time now, of course; but she gave them what time she could. Perhaps John Pendleton, of them all, however, was the most dissatisfied.

 

One Saturday afternoon he spoke¹ to her about it.

 

“See here, Pollyanna, how would you like to come and live with me?” he asked, a little impatiently. “I don't see anything of you, nowadays.”

 

Pollyanna laughed—Mr. Pendleton was such a funny man!

 

“I thought you didn't like to have folks 'round,” she said.

 

He made a wry² face.

 

“Oh, but that was before you taught me to play that wonderful game of yours. Now I'm glad to be waited on, hand and foot! Never mind, I'll be on my own two feet yet, one of these days; then I'll see who steps around,” he finished, picking up one of the crutches³ at his side and shaking it playfully at the little girl. They were sitting in the great library to-day.

 

“Oh, but you aren't really glad at all for things; you just SAY you are,” pouted⁴ Pollyanna, her eyes on the dog, dozing⁵ before the fire. “You know you don't play the game right EVER, Mr. Pendleton—you know you don't!”

 

The man's face grew suddenly very grave.

 

“That's why I want you, little girl—to help me play it. Will you come?”

 

Pollyanna turned in surprise.

 

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