never learned before, but from Jamie, also.

Jamie was there a great deal. Pollyanna liked to have him there, and
he liked to be there. At first, to be sure, he had hesitated; but very
soon he had quieted his doubts and yielded to his longings by telling
himself (and Pollyanna) that, after all, visiting was not "staying for
keeps."

Mrs. Carew often found the boy and Pollyanna contentedly settled on
the library window-seat, with the empty wheel chair close by.
Sometimes they were poring over a book. (She heard Jamie tell
Pollyanna one day that he didn't think he'd mind so very much being
lame if he had so many books as Mrs. Carew, and that he guessed he'd
be so happy he'd fly clean away if he had both books and legs.)
Sometimes the boy was telling stories, and Pollyanna was listening,
wide-eyed and absorbed.

Mrs. Carew wondered at Pollyanna's interest--until one day she herself
stopped and listened. After that she wondered no longer--but she
listened a good deal longer. Crude and incorrect as was much of the
boy's language, it was always wonderfully vivid and picturesque, so
that Mrs. Carew found herself, hand in hand with Pollyanna, trailing
down the Golden Ages at the beck of a glowing-eyed boy.

Dimly Mrs. Carew was beginning to realize, too, something of what it
must mean, to be in spirit and ambition the center of brave deeds and
wonderful adventures, while in reality one was only a crippled boy in
a wheel chair. But what Mrs. Carew did not realize was the part this
crippled boy was beginning to play in her own life. She did not
realize how much a matter of course his presence was becoming, nor how