“So Mr. Pendleton says it takes a woman's hand and heart to make a home, does he?” he asked evasively.
“Yes. He says his is just a house, too. Why don't you, Dr. Chilton?”
“Why don't I—what?” The doctor had turned back to his desk.
“Get a woman's hand and heart. Oh—and I forgot.” Pollyanna's face showed suddenly a painful color. “I suppose I ought to tell you. It wasn't Aunt Polly that Mr. Pendleton loved long ago; and so we—we aren't going there to live. You see, I told you it was—but I made a mistake. I hope YOU didn't tell any one,” she finished anxiously.
“No—I didn't tell any one, Pollyanna,” replied the doctor, a little queerly.
“Oh, that's all right, then,” sighed Pollyanna in relief. “You see you're the only one I told, and I thought Mr. Pendleton looked sort of funny when I said I'd told YOU.”
“Did he?” The doctor's lips twitched.
“Yes. And of course he wouldn't want many people to know it—when 'twasn't true. But why don't you get a woman's hand and heart, Dr. Chilton?”
There was a moment's silence; then very gravely the doctor said:
“They're not always to be had—for the asking, little girl.”