Pollyanna frowned and pondered.
"Is it? I don't see how it can be. I don't see how you can be lonesome when you've got folks all around you. Still—" she hesitated, and the frown deepened. "I WAS lonesome this afternoon, and there WERE folks all around me; only they didn't seem to—to think—or notice."
The pretty girl smiled bitterly.
"That's just it. They don't ever think—or notice, crowds don't."
"But some folks do. We can be glad some do," urged Pollyanna. "Now when I—"
"Oh, yes, some do," interrupted the other. As she spoke she shivered and looked fearfully down the path beyond Pollyanna. "Some notice—too much."
Pollyanna shrank back in dismay. Repeated rebuffs that afternoon had given her a new sensitiveness.
"Do you mean—me?" she stammered. "That you wished I hadn't—noticed—you?"
"No, no, kiddie! I meant—some one quite different from you. Some one that hadn't ought to notice. I was glad to have you speak, only—I thought at first it was some one from home."
"Oh, then you don't live here, either, any more than I do—I mean, for keeps."