CHAPTER XXX
JOHN PENDLETON TURNS THE KEY
Jimmy went back to Boston that night in a state that was a mosttantalizing commingling of happiness, hope, exasperation, andrebellion. Behind him he left a girl who was in a scarcely lessenviable frame of mind; for Pollyanna, tremulously happy in thewondrous thought of Jimmy's love for her, was yet so despairinglyterrified at the thought of the possible love of John Pendleton, thatthere was not a thrill of joy that did not carry its pang of fear.
Fortunately for all concerned, however, this state of affairs was notof long duration; for, as it chanced, John Pendleton, in whoseunwitting hands lay the key to the situation, in less than a weekafter Jimmy's hurried visit, turned that key in the lock, and openedthe door of doubt.
It was late Thursday afternoon that John Pendleton called to seePollyanna. As it happened, he, like Jimmy, saw Pollyanna in the gardenand came straight toward her.
Pollyanna, looking into his face, felt a sudden sinking of the heart.
"It's come--it's come!" she shivered; and involuntarily she turned asif to flee.
"Involuntarily she turned as if to flee"]
"Oh, Pollyanna, wait a minute, please," called the man hastening hissteps. "You're just the one I wanted to see. Come, can't we go inhere?" he suggested, turning toward the summerhouse. "I want to speakto you about--something."
"Why, y-yes, of course," stammered Pollyanna, with forced gayety.Pollyanna knew that she was blushing, and she particularly wished notto blush just then. It did not help matters any, either, that heshould have elected to go into the summerhouse for his talk. Thesummerhouse now, to Pollyanna, was sacred to certain dear memories ofJimmy. "And to think it should be here--HERE!" she was shudderingfrantically. But aloud she said, still gayly, "It's a lovely evening,isn't it?"
There was no answer. John Pendleton strode into the summerhouse anddropped himself into a rustic chair without even waiting for Pollyannato seat herself--a most unusual proceeding on the part of JohnPendleton. Pollyanna, stealing a nervous glance at his face found itso startlingly like the old stern, sour visage of her childhood'sremembrance, that she uttered an involuntary exclamation.
Still John Pendleton paid no heed. Still moodily he sat wrapped inthought. At last, however, he lifted his head and gazed somberly intoPollyanna's startled eyes.
"Pollyanna."
"Yes, Mr. Pendleton."
"Do you remember the sort of man I was when you first knew me, yearsago?"
"Why, y-yes, I think so."
"Delightfully agreeable specimen of humanity, wasn't I?"
In spite of her perturbation Pollyanna smiled faintly.
"I--_I_ liked you, sir." Not until the words were uttered didPollyanna realize just how they would sound. She strove then,frantically, to recall or modify them and had almost added a "that is,I mean, I liked you THEN!" when she stopped just in time: certainlyTHAT would not have helped matters any! She listened then, fearfully,for John Pendleton's next words. They came almost at once.
"I know you did--bless your little heart! And it was that that was thesaving of me. I wonder, Pollyanna, if I could ever make you realizejust what your childish trust and liking did for me."
Pollyanna stammered a confused protest; but he brushed it smilinglyaside.
"Oh, yes, it was! It was you, and no one else. I wonder if youremember another thing, too," resumed the man, after a moment'ssilence, during which Pollyanna looked furtively, but longingly towardthe door. "I wonder if you remember my telling you once that nothingbut a woman's hand and heart, or a child's presence could make ahome."
Pollyanna felt the blood rush to her face.
"Y-yes, n-no--I mean, yes, I remember it," she stuttered; "but I--Idon't think it's always so now. I mean--that is, I'm sure your homenow is--is lovely just as 'tis, and--"
"But it's my home I'm talking about, child," interrupted the man,impatiently. "Pollyanna, you know the kind of home I once hoped tohave, and how those hopes were dashed to the ground. Don't think,dear, I'm blaming your mother. I'm not. She but obeyed her heart,which was right; and she made the wiser choice, anyway, as was provedby the dreary waste I've made of life because of that disappointment.After all, Pollyanna, isn't it strange," added John Pendleton, hisvoice growing tender, "that it should be the little hand of her owndaughter that led me into the path of happiness, at last?"
Pollyanna moistened her lips convulsively.
"Oh, but Mr. Pendleton, I--I--"
Once again the man brushed aside her protests with a smiling gesture.
"Yes, it was, Pollyanna, your little hand in the long ago--you, andyour glad game."
"Oh-h!" Pollyanna relaxed visibly in her seat. The terror in her eyesbegan slowly to recede.
"And so all these years I've been gradually growing into a differentman, Pollyanna. But there's one thing I haven't changed in, my dear."He paused, looked away, then turned gravely tender eyes back to herface. "I still think it takes a woman's hand and heart or a child'spresence to make a home."
"Yes; b-but you've g-got the child's presence," plunged in Pollyanna,the terror coming back to her eyes. "There's Jimmy, you know."
The man gave an amused laugh.
"I know; but--I don't think even you would say that Jimmy is--isexactly a CHILD'S presence any longer," he remarked.
"N-no, of course not."
"Besides--Pollyanna, I've made up my mind. I've got to have thewoman's hand and heart." His voice dropped, and trembled a little.
"Oh-h, have you?" Pollyanna's fingers met and clutched each other in aspasmodic clasp. John Pendleton, however, seemed neither to hear norsee. He had leaped to his feet, and was nervously pacing up and downthe little house.
"Pollyanna," he stopped and faced her; "if--if you were I, and weregoing to ask the woman you loved to come and make your old gray pileof stone a home, how would you go to work to do it?"
Pollyanna half started from her chair. Her eyes sought the door, thistime openly, longingly.
"Oh, but, Mr. Pendleton, I wouldn't do it at all, at all," shestammered, a little wildly. "I'm sure you'd be--much happier as--asyou are."
The man stared in puzzled surprise, then laughed grimly.
"Upon my word, Pollyanna, is it--quite so bad as that?" he asked.
"B-bad?" Pollyanna had the appearance of being poised for flight.
"Yes. Is that just your way of trying to soften the blow of sayingthat you don't think she'd have me, anyway?"
"Oh, n-no--no, indeed. She'd say yes--she'd HAVE to say yes, youknow," explained Pollyanna, with terrified earnestness. "But I've beenthinking--I mean, I was thinking that if--if the girl didn't love you,you really would be happier without her; and--" At the look that cameinto John Pendleton's face, Pollyanna stopped short.
"I shouldn't want her, if she didn't love me, Pollyanna."
"No, I thought not, too." Pollyanna began to look a little lessdistracted.
"Besides, she doesn't happen to be a girl," went on John Pendleton."She's a mature woman who, presumedly, would know her own mind." Theman's voice was grave and slightly reproachful.
"Oh-h-h! Oh!" exclaimed Pollyanna, the dawning happiness in her eyesleaping forth in a flash of ineffable joy and relief. "Then you lovesomebody--" By an almost superhuman effort Pollyanna choked off the"else" before it left her delighted lips.
"Love somebody! Haven't I just been telling you I did?" laughed JohnPendleton, half vexedly. "What I want to know is--can she be made tolove me? That's where I was sort of--of counting on your help,Pollyanna. You see, she's a dear friend of yours."
"Is she?" gurgled Pollyanna. "Then she'll just have to love you. We'llmake her! Maybe she does, anyway, already. Who is she?"
There was a long pause before the answer came.
"I believe, after all, Pollyanna, I won't--yes, I will, too.It's--can't you guess?--Mrs. Carew."
"Oh!" breathed Pollyanna, with a face of unclouded joy. "How perfectlylovely! I'm so glad, GLAD, GLAD!"
A long hour later Po
llyanna sent Jimmy a letter. It was confused andincoherent--a series of half-completed, illogical, but shyly joyoussentences, out of which Jimmy gathered much: a little from what waswritten; more from what was left unwritten. After all, did he reallyneed more than this?
"Oh, Jimmy, he doesn't love me a bit. It's some one else. I mustn'ttell you who it is--but her name isn't Pollyanna."
Jimmy had just time to catch the seven o'clock train forBeldingsville--and he caught it.