Eleanor H. Porter: Pollyanna

20. CHAPTER XX. WHICH IS MORE SURPRISING (continued)

"Yes. I had not meant to tell you, but perhaps it's better, after all, that I do--now." John Pendleton's face had grown very white. He was speaking with evident difficulty. Pollyanna, her eyes wide and frightened, and her lips parted, was gazing at him fixedly. "I loved your mother; but she--didn't love me. And after a time she went away with--your father. I did not know until then how much I did--care. The whole world suddenly seemed to turn black under my fingers, and--But, never mind. For long years I have been a cross, crabbed, unlovable, unloved old man--though I'm not nearly sixty, yet, Pollyanna. Then, One day, like one of the prisms that you love so well, little girl, you danced into my life, and flecked my dreary old world with dashes of the purple and gold and scarlet of your own bright cheeriness. I found out, after a time, who you were, and--and I thought then I never wanted to see you again. I didn't want to be reminded of--your mother. But--you know how that came out. I just had to have you come. And now I want you always. Pollyanna, won't you come NOW?"

"But, Mr. Pendleton, I--There's Aunt Polly!" Pollyanna's eyes were blurred with tears.

The man made an impatient gesture.

"What about me? How do you suppose I'm going to be 'glad' about anything--without you? Why, Pollyanna, it's only since you came that I've been even half glad to live! But if I had you for my own little girl, I'd be glad for--anything; and I'd try to make you glad, too, my dear. You shouldn't have a wish ungratified. All my money, to the last cent, should go to make you happy."

Pollyanna looked shocked.

"Why, Mr. Pendleton, as if I'd let you spend it on me--all that money you've saved for the heathen!"

A dull red came to the man's face. He started to speak, but Pollyanna was still talking.