you'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-sounding
words. Besides, in this particular instance--would not Mr. Pendleton
be especially interested in Mrs. Carew's taking the boy into her home,
for who better than himself could understand the need of a child's
presence?

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

"Say, look a-here," he demanded one afternoon, irritably. "Wasn't
there 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 should
think, from your talk, that there wasn't ANYBODY down to Boston but
just that loony boy who calls them birds and squirrels 'Lady
Lancelot,' and all that tommyrot."

"Why, Jimmy Be--Pendleton!" gasped Pollyanna. Then, with some spirit: