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of them when I was there two years ago with Mrs. Gray. We were there two whole hours, you know, on my way here from out West.

ā€œThere was a man in the stationā ā€”a perfectly lovely man who told me where to get a drink of water. Do you suppose heā€™s there now? Iā€™d like to know him. And there was a nice lady with a little girl. They live in Boston. They said they did. The little girlā€™s name was Susie Smith. Perhaps I could get to know them. Do you suppose I could? And there was a boy, and another lady with a babyā ā€”only they lived in Honolulu, so probably I couldnā€™t find them there now. But thereā€™d be Mrs. Carew, anyway. Who is Mrs. Carew, Aunt Polly? Is she a relation?ā€

ā€œDear me, Pollyanna!ā€ exclaimed Mrs. Chilton, half-laughingly, half-despairingly. ā€œHow do you expect anybody to keep up with your tongue, much less your thoughts, when they skip to Honolulu and back again in two seconds! No, Mrs. Carew isnā€™t any relation to us. Sheā€™s Miss Della Wetherbyā€™s sister. Do you remember Miss Wetherby at the Sanatorium?ā€

Pollyanna clapped her hands.

ā€œHer sister? Miss Wetherbyā€™s sister? Oh, then sheā€™ll be lovely, I know. Miss Wetherby was. I loved Miss Wetherby. She had little smile-wrinkles all around her eyes and mouth, and she knew the nicest stories. I only had her two months, though, because she only got there a little while before I came away. At first I was sorry that I hadnā€™t had her all the time, but afterwards I was glad; for you see if I had had her all the time, it would have been harder to say goodbye than ā€™twas when Iā€™d only had her a little while. And now itā€™ll seem as if I had her again, ā€™cause Iā€™m going to have her sister.ā€

Mrs. Chilton drew in her breath and bit her lip.

ā€œBut, Pollyanna, dear, you must not expect that theyā€™ll be quite alike,ā€ she ventured.

ā€œWhy, theyā€™re sisters, Aunt Polly,ā€ argued the little girl, her eyes widening; ā€œand I thought sisters were always alike. We had two sets of ā€™em in the Ladiesā€™ Aiders. One set was twins, and they were so alike you couldnā€™t tell which was Mrs. Peck and which was Mrs. Jones, until a wart grew on Mrs. Jonesā€™s nose, then of course we could, because we looked for the wart the first thing. And thatā€™s what I told her one day when she was complaining that people called her Mrs. Peck, and I said if theyā€™d only look for the wart as I did, theyā€™d know right off. But she acted real crossā ā€”I mean displeased, and Iā€™m afraid she didnā€™t like itā ā€”though I donā€™t see why; for I should have thought sheā€™d been glad there was something they could be told apart by, ā€™specially as she was the president, and didnā€™t like it when folks didnā€™t act as if she was the presidentā ā€”best seats and introductions and special attentions at church suppers, you know. But she didnā€™t, and afterwards I heard Mrs. White tell Mrs. Rawson that Mrs. Jones had done everything she could think of to get rid of that wart, even to trying to put salt on a birdā€™s tail. But I donā€™t see how that could do any good. Aunt Polly, does putting salt on a birdā€™s tail help the warts on peopleā€™s noses?ā€

ā€œOf course not, child! How you do run on, Pollyanna, especially if you get started on those Ladiesā€™ Aiders!ā€

ā€œDo I, Aunt Polly?ā€ asked the little girl, ruefully. ā€œAnd does it plague you? I donā€™t mean to plague you, honestly, Aunt Polly. And, anyway, if I do plague you about those Ladiesā€™ Aiders, you can be kind oā€™ glad, for if Iā€™m thinking of the Aiders, Iā€™m sure to be thinking how glad I am that I donā€™t belong to them any longer, but have got an aunt all my own. You can be glad of that, canā€™t you, Aunt Polly?ā€

ā€œYes, yes, dear, of course I can, of course I can,ā€ laughed Mrs. Chilton, rising to leave the room, and feeling suddenly very guilty that she was conscious sometimes of a little of her old irritation against Pollyannaā€™s perpetual gladness.

During the next few days, while letters concerning Pollyannaā€™s winter stay in Boston were flying back and forth, Pollyanna herself was preparing for that stay by a series of farewell visits to her Beldingsville friends.

Everybody in the little Vermont village knew Pollyanna now, and almost everybody was playing the game with her. The few who were not, were not refraining because of ignorance of what the glad game was. So to one house after another Pollyanna carried the news now that she was going down to Boston to spend the winter; and loudly rose the clamor of regret and remonstrance, all the way from Nancy in Aunt Pollyā€™s own kitchen to the great house on the hill where lived John Pendleton.

Nancy did not hesitate to sayā ā€”to everyone except her mistressā ā€”that she considered this Boston trip all foolishness, and that for her part she would have been glad to take Miss Pollyanna home with her to the Corners, she would, she would; and then Mrs. Polly could have gone to Germany all she wanted to.

On the hill John Pendleton said practically the same thing, only he did not hesitate to say it to Mrs. Chilton herself. As for Jimmy, the twelve-year-old boy whom John Pendleton had taken into his home because Pollyanna wanted him to, and whom he had now adoptedā ā€”because he wanted to himselfā ā€”as for Jimmy, Jimmy was indignant, and he was not slow to show it.

ā€œBut youā€™ve just come,ā€ he reproached Pollyanna, in the tone of voice a small boy is apt to use when he wants to hide the fact that he has a heart.

ā€œWhy, Iā€™ve been here ever since the last of March. Besides, it isnā€™t as if I was going to stay. Itā€™s only for this winter.ā€

ā€œI donā€™t care. Youā€™ve just been away for a whole year, ā€™most, and if Iā€™d sā€™posed you was going away again right off, the first

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