Поллианна

           Assoonasshecould,afterthat,shehurriedupthehilltoJohnPendleton’shouse; andinduetimeshefoundherselfinthegreatdimlibrary,withJohnPendletonhimselfsittingnearher,hislong,thinhandslyingidleonthearmsofhischair,andhisfaithfullittledogathisfeet. 

           "Well,Pollyanna,isittobethe‘gladgame’withme,alltherestofmylife?"askedtheman,gently. 

           "Oh,yes,"criedPollyanna. "I’vethoughtoftheverygladdestkindofathingforyoutodo,and—" 

           "With—YOU?"askedJohnPendleton,hismouthgrowingalittlesternatthecorners. 

           "N-no;but—" 

           "Pollyanna,youaren’tgoingtosayno!"interruptedavoicedeepwithemotion. 

           "I—I’vegotto,Mr.Pendleton; trulyIhave. AuntPolly—" 

           "DidsheREFUSE—toletyou—come?" 

           "I—Ididn’taskher,"stammeredthelittlegirl,miserably. 

           "Pollyanna!" 

           Pollyannaturnedawayhereyes. Shecouldnotmeetthehurt,grievedgazeofherfriend. 

           "Soyoudidn’tevenaskher!" 

           "Icouldn’t,sir—truly,"falteredPollyanna. "Yousee,Ifoundout—withoutasking. AuntPollyWANTSmewithher,and—andIwanttostay,too,"sheconfessedbravely. "Youdon’tknowhowgoodshe’sbeentome; and—andIthink,really,sometimesshe’sbeginningtobegladaboutthings—lotsofthings. Andyouknowsheneverusedtobe. Yousaidityourself. Oh,Mr.Pendleton,ICOULDN’TleaveAuntPolly—now!"