ve tried to tell you half a dozen times before. There
is no money for the heathen. I never sent a penny to them in my life.
There!"

He lifted his chin and braced himself to meet what he expected--the
grieved disappointment of Pollyanna's eyes. To his amazement, however,
there was neither grief nor disappointment in Pollyanna's eyes. There
was only surprised joy.

"Oh, oh!" she cried, clapping her hands. "I'm so glad! That is," she
corrected, coloring distressfully, "I don't mean that I'm not sorry for
the heathen, only just now I can't help being glad that you don't want
the little India boys, because all the rest have wanted them. And so I'm
glad you'd rather have Jimmy Bean. Now I know you'll take him!"

"Take--WHO?"

"Jimmy Bean. He's the 'child's presence,' you know; and he'll be so glad
to be it. I had to tell him last week that even my Ladies' Aid out West
wouldn't take him, and he was so disappointed. But now--when he hears of
this--he'll be so glad!"

"Will he? Well, I won't," ejaculated the man, decisively. "Pollyanna,
this is sheer nonsense!"

"You don't mean--you won't take him?"

"I certainly do mean just that."

"But he'd be a lovely child's presence," faltered Pollyanna. She was
almost crying now. "And you COULDN'T be lonesome--with Jimmy 'round."

"I don't doubt it," rejoined the man; "but--I think I prefer the
lonesomeness."

It was then that Pollyanna, for the first time in weeks, suddenly
remembered something Nancy had once told her. She raised her chin
aggrievedly.

"Maybe you think a nice live little boy wouldn't be better than that old
dead skeleton you keep somewhere; but I think it would!"

"SKELETON?"

"Yes. Nancy said you had one in your closet, somewhere."

"Why, what--" Suddenly the man threw back his head and laughed. He
laughed very heartily indeed--so heartily that Pollyanna began to cry
from pure nervousness. When he saw that, John Pendleton sat erect very
promptly. His face grew grave at once.

"Pollyanna, I suspect you are right--more right than you know," he said
gently. "In fact, I KNOW that a 'nice live little boy' would be far
better than--my skeleton in the closet; only--we aren't always willing
to make the exchange. We are apt to still cling to--our skeletons,
Pollyanna. However, suppose you tell me a little more about this nice
little boy." And Pollyanna told him.

Perhaps the laugh cleared the air; or perhaps the pathos of Jimmy Bean's
story as told by Poll