. Perhaps it was because of this that she one day
spoke to him.

"How do you do, sir? Isn't this a nice day?" she called cheerily, as she
approached him.

The man threw a hurried glance about him, then stopped uncertainly.

"Did you speak--to me?" he asked in a sharp voice.

"Yes, sir," beamed Pollyanna. "I say, it's a nice day, isn't it?"

"Eh? Oh! Humph!" he grunted; and strode on again.

Pollyanna laughed. He was such a funny man, she thought.

The next day she saw him again.

"'Tisn't quite so nice as yesterday, but it's pretty nice," she called
out cheerfully.

"Eh? Oh! Humph!" grunted the man as before; and once again Pollyanna
laughed happily.

When for the third time Pollyanna accosted him in much the same manner,
the man stopped abruptly.

"See here, child, who are you, and why are you speaking to me every
day?"

"I'm Pollyanna Whittier, and I thought you looked lonesome. I'm so glad
you stopped. Now we're introduced--only I don't know your name yet."

"Well, of all the--" The man did not finish his sentence, but strode on
faster than ever.

Pollyanna looked after him with a disappointed droop to her usually
smiling lips.

"Maybe he didn't understand--but that was only half an introduction. I
don't know HIS name, yet," she murmured, as she proceeded on her way.

Pollyanna was carrying calf's-foot jelly to Mrs. Snow to-day. Miss Polly
Harrington always sent something to Mrs. Snow once a week. She said she
thought that it was her duty, inasmuch as Mrs. Snow was poor, sick, and
a member of her church--it was the duty of all the church members
to look out for her, of course. Miss Polly did her duty by Mrs. Snow
usually on Thursday afternoons--not personally, but through Nancy.
To-day Pollyanna had begged the privilege, and Nancy had promptly given
it to her in accordance with Miss Polly's orders.

"And it's glad that I am ter get rid of it," Nancy had declared in
private afterwards to Pollyanna; "though it's a shame ter be tuckin' the
job off on ter you, poor lamb, so it is, it is!"

"But I'd love to do it, Nancy."

"Well, you won't--after you've done it once," predicted Nancy, sourly.

"Why not?"

"Because nobody does. If folks wa'n't sorry for her there wouldn't a
soul go near her from mornin' till night, she's that cantankerous. All
is, I pity her daughter what HAS ter take care of her."

"But, why, Nancy?"

Nancy shrugged her shoulders.

"Well, in plain words, it's just that noth