Pollyanna frowned thoughtfully.
“But I should think you could get 'em,” she argued. The flattering emphasis was unmistakable.
“Thank you,” laughed the doctor, with uplifted eyebrows. Then, gravely again: “I'm afraid some of your older sisters would not be quite so—confident. At least, they—they haven't shown themselves to be so—obliging,” he observed.
Pollyanna frowned again. Then her eyes widened in surprise.
“Why, Dr. Chilton, you don't mean—you didn't try to get somebody's hand and heart once, like Mr. Pendleton, and—and couldn't, did you?”
The doctor got to his feet a little abruptly.
“There, there, Pollyanna, never mind about that now. Don't let other people's troubles worry your little head. Suppose you run back now to Mrs. Snow. I've written down the name of the medicine, and the directions how she is to take it. Was there anything else?”
Pollyanna shook her head.
“No, Sir; thank you, Sir,” she murmured soberly, as she turned toward the door. From the little hallway she called back, her face suddenly alight: “Anyhow, I'm glad 'twasn't my mother's hand and heart that you wanted and couldn't get, Dr. Chilton. Good-by!”
It was on the last day of October that the accident occurred. Pollyanna, hurrying home from school, crossed the road at an apparently safe distance in front of a swiftly approaching motor car.