with
vast surprise on her face.

Behind the doctor, a young man (a trained nurse from the nearest city)
gave a disturbed exclamation.

"But, Doctor, didn't Mr. Pendleton give orders not to admit--any one?"

"Oh, yes," nodded the doctor, imperturbably. "But I'm giving orders
now. I'll take the risk." Then he added whimsically: "You don't know, of
course; but that little girl is better than a six-quart bottle of tonic
any day. If anything or anybody can take the grouch out of Pendleton
this afternoon, she can. That's why I sent her in."

"Who is she?"

For one brief moment the doctor hesitated.

"She's the niece of one of our best known residents. Her name is
Pollyanna Whittier. I--I don't happen to enjoy a very extensive personal
acquaintance with the little lady as yet; but lots of my patients
do--I'm thankful to say!"

The nurse smiled.

"Indeed! And what are the special ingredients of this
wonder-working--tonic of hers?"

The doctor shook his head.

"I don't know. As near as I can find out it is an overwhelming,
unquenchable gladness for everything that has happened or is going to
happen. At any rate, her quaint speeches are constantly being repeated
to me, and, as near as I can make out, 'just being glad' is the tenor
of most of them. All is," he added, with another whimsical smile, as
he stepped out on to the porch, "I wish I could prescribe her--and buy
her--as I would a box of pills;--though if there gets to be many of
her in the world, you and I might as well go to ribbon-selling and
ditch-digging for all the money we'd get out of nursing and doctoring,"
he laughed, picking up the reins and stepping into the gig.

Pollyanna, meanwhile, in accordance with the doctor's orders, was being
escorted to John Pendleton's rooms.

Her way led through the great library at the end of the hall, and, rapid
as was her progress through it, Pollyanna saw at once that great changes
had taken place. The book-lined walls and the crimson curtains were the
same; but there was no litter on the floor, no untidiness on the desk,
and not so much as a grain of dust in sight. The telephone card hung in
its proper place, and the brass andirons had been polished. One of the
mysterious doors was open, and it was toward this that the maid led the
way. A moment later Pollyanna found herself in a sumptuously furnished
bedroom while the maid was saying in a frightened voice:

"If you please, sir, here--here's a little girl with s