short laugh. It was a sheepish laugh, and not quite a
willing one; but his face looked a little pleasanter when he spoke this
time.

"All right then--here goes! I'm Jimmy Bean, and I'm ten years old goin'
on eleven. I come last year ter live at the Orphans' Home; but they've
got so many kids there ain't much room for me, an' I wa'n't never
wanted, anyhow, I don't believe. So I've quit. I'm goin' ter live
somewheres else--but I hain't found the place, yet. I'd LIKE a
home--jest a common one, ye know, with a mother in it, instead of
a Matron. If ye has a home, ye has folks; an' I hain't had folks
since--dad died. So I'm a-huntin' now. I've tried four houses, but--they
didn't want me--though I said I expected ter work, 'course. There! Is
that all you want ter know?" The boy's voice had broken a little over
the last two sentences.

"Why, what a shame!" sympathized Pollyanna. "And didn't there anybody
want you? O dear! I know just how you feel, because after--after my
father died, too, there wasn't anybody but the Ladies' Aid for me, until
Aunt Polly said she'd take--" Pollyanna stopped abruptly. The dawning of
a wonderful idea began to show in her face.

"Oh, I know just the place for you," she cried. "Aunt Polly'll take
you--I know she will! Didn't she take me? And didn't she take Fluffy
and Buffy, when they didn't have any one to love them, or any place to
go?--and they're only cats and dogs. Oh, come, I know Aunt Polly'll take
you! You don't know how good and kind she is!"

Jimmy Bean's thin little face brightened.

"Honest Injun? Would she, now? I'd work, ye know, an' I'm real strong!"
He bared a small, bony arm.

"Of course she would! Why, my Aunt Polly is the nicest lady in the
world--now that my mama has gone to be a Heaven angel. And there's
rooms--heaps of 'em," she continued, springing to her feet, and tugging
at his arm. "It's an awful big house. Maybe, though," she added a little
anxiously, as they hurried on, "maybe you'll have to sleep in the attic
room. I did, at first. But there's screens there now, so 'twon't be so
hot, and the flies can't get in, either, to bring in the germ-things on
their feet. Did you know about that? It's perfectly lovely! Maybe she'll
let you read the book if you're good--I mean, if you're bad. And you've
got freckles, too,"--with a critical glance--"so you'll be glad there
isn't any looking-glass; and the outdoor picture is nicer than any
wall-one could be, so you won't mind