"Why, I thought you'd be GLAD to have him here! I'm sure, I should think you'd be glad--" Miss Polly raised her hand with a peremptory gesture of silence.

Miss Polly's nerves had snapped at last.

The "good and kind" of the boy's words were still ringing in her ears, and the old helplessness was almost upon her, she knew.

Yet she rallied her forces with the last atom of her will power.
"Pollyanna," she cried sharply, "WILL you stop using that everlasting word 'glad'! It's 'glad'-- 'glad'-- 'glad' from morning till night until I think I shall grow wild!" From sheer amazement Pollyanna's jaw dropped.
"Why, Aunt Polly," she breathed, "I should think you'd be glad to have me gl--Oh!" she broke off, clapping her hand to her lips and hurrying blindly from the room.
Before the boy had reached the end of the driveway, Pollyanna overtook him.
"Boy! Boy! Jimmy Bean, I want you to know how--how sorry I am," she panted, catching him with a detaining hand.
"Sorry nothin'! I ain't blamin' you," retorted the boy, sullenly.

"But I ain't no beggar!" he added, with sudden spirit.
"Of course you aren't! But you mustn't blame auntie," appealed Pollyanna.