terrified earnestness. "But I've been thinking—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 came into 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 less distracted.

"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." The man's voice was grave and slightly reproachful.

"Oh-h-h! Oh!" exclaimed Pollyanna, the dawning happiness in her eyes leaping forth in a flash of ineffable joy and relief. "Then you love somebody—" 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 John Pendleton, half vexedly. "What I want to know is—can she be made to love 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'll make 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 un-