orry for everything for so long,
that it was not easy to be glad for anything now. But under Pollyanna's
cheery instructions and merry laughter at her mistakes, she was learning
fast. To-day, even, to Pollyanna's huge delight, she had said that she
was glad Pollyanna brought calf's-foot jelly, because that was just what
she had been wanting--she did not know that Milly, at the front door,
had told Pollyanna that the minister's wife had already that day sent
over a great bowlful of that same kind of jelly.

Pollyanna was thinking of this now when suddenly she saw the boy.

The boy was sitting in a disconsolate little heap by the roadside,
whittling half-heartedly at a small stick.

"Hullo," smiled Pollyanna, engagingly.

The boy glanced up, but he looked away again, at once.

"Hullo yourself," he mumbled.

Pollyanna laughed.

"Now you don't look as if you'd be glad even for calf's-foot jelly," she
chuckled, stopping before him.

The boy stirred restlessly, gave her a surprised look, and began to
whittle again at his stick, with the dull, broken-bladed knife in his
hand.

Pollyanna hesitated, then dropped herself comfortably down on the grass
near him. In spite of Pollyanna's brave assertion that she was "used
to Ladies' Aiders," and "didn't mind," she had sighed at times for some
companion of her own age. Hence her determination to make the most of
this one.

"My name's Pollyanna Whittier," she began pleasantly. "What's yours?"

Again the boy stirred restlessly. He even almost got to his feet. But he
settled back.

"Jimmy Bean," he grunted with ungracious indifference.

"Good! Now we're introduced. I'm glad you did your part--some folks
don't, you know. I live at Miss Polly Harrington's house. Where do you
live?"

"Nowhere."

"Nowhere! Why, you can't do that--everybody lives somewhere," asserted
Pollyanna.

"Well, I don't--just now. I'm huntin' up a new place."

"Oh! Where is it?"

The boy regarded her with scornful eyes.

"Silly! As if I'd be a-huntin' for it--if I knew!"

Pollyanna tossed her head a little. This was not a nice boy, and she
did not like to be called "silly." Still, he was somebody besides--old
folks. "Where did you live--before?" she queried.

"Well, if you ain't the beat'em for askin' questions!" sighed the boy
impatiently.

"I have to be," retorted Pollyanna calmly, "else I couldn't find out a
thing about you. If you'd talk more I wouldn't talk so much."

The boy gave a