"Oh, I'm here, I'm here, I'm right here!" she panted, stumbling forward. "What is it? Did Jamie send you?"
In her excitement she had almost flung herself with outstretched arms upon the boy when Mary intercepted a shocked, restraining hand.
"Miss Pollyanna, Miss Pollyanna, do you mean to say you know this—this beggar boy?"
The boy flushed angrily; but before he could speak Pollyanna interposed valiant championship.
"He isn't a beggar boy. He belongs to one of my very best friends.
Besides, he's the one that found me and brought me home that time I
was lost." Then to the boy she turned with impetuous questioning.
"What is it? Did Jamie send you?"
"Sure he did. He hit the hay a month ago, and he hain't been up since."
"He hit—what?" puzzled Pollyanna.
"Hit the hay—went ter bed. He's sick, I mean, and he wants ter see ye. Will ye come?"
"Sick? Oh, I'm so sorry!" grieved Pollyanna. "Of course I'll come.
I'll go get my hat and coat right away."
"Miss Pollyanna!" gasped Mary in stern disapproval. "As if Mrs. Carew would let you go—ANYWHERE with a strange boy like this!"