or a new carpet. Besides--what is a Ladies'
Aid?"

Pollyanna stared in shocked disapproval.

"Why, Jimmy Bean, wherever have you been brought up?--not to know what a
Ladies' Aid is!"

"Oh, all right--if you ain't tellin'," grunted the boy, turning and
beginning to walk away indifferently.

Pollyanna sprang to his side at once.

"It's--it's--why, it's just a lot of ladies that meet and sew and give
suppers and raise money and--and talk; that's what a Ladies' Aid is.
They're awfully kind--that is, most of mine was, back home. I haven't
seen this one here, but they're always good, I reckon. I'm going to tell
them about you this afternoon."

Again the boy turned fiercely.

"Not much you will! Maybe you think I'm goin' ter stand 'round an' hear
a whole LOT o' women call me a beggar, instead of jest ONE! Not much!"

"Oh, but you wouldn't be there," argued Pollyanna, quickly. "I'd go
alone, of course, and tell them."

"You would?"

"Yes; and I'd tell it better this time," hurried on Pollyanna, quick to
see the signs of relenting in the boy's face. "And there'd be some of
'em, I know, that would be glad to give you a home."

"I'd work--don't forget ter say that," cautioned the boy.

"Of course not," promised Pollyanna, happily, sure now that her point
was gained. "Then I'll let you know to-morrow."

"Where?"

"By the road--where I found you to-day; near Mrs. Snow's house."

"All right. I'll be there." The boy paused before he went on slowly:
"Maybe I'd better go back, then, for ter-night, ter the Home. You see
I hain't no other place ter stay; and--and I didn't leave till this
mornin'. I slipped out. I didn't tell 'em I wasn't comin' back, else
they'd pretend I couldn't come--though I'm thinkin' they won't do no
worryin' when I don't show up sometime. They ain't like FOLKS, ye know.
They don't CARE!"

"I know," nodded Pollyanna, with understanding eyes. "But I'm sure, when
I see you to-morrow, I'll have just a common home and folks that do care
all ready for you. Good-by!" she called brightly, as she turned back
toward the house.

In the sitting-room window at that moment, Miss Polly, who had been
watching the two children, followed with sombre eyes the boy until a
bend of the road hid him from sight. Then she sighed, turned, and walked
listlesly up-stairs--and Miss Polly did not usually move listlessly. In
her ears still was the boy's scornful "you was so good and kind." In her
heart was a curious sense