"Not much you did," scoffed Nancy. "Her cousin died suddenly
down to Boston, and she had ter go. She had one o' them yeller
telegram letters after you went away this afternoon, and she
won't be back for three days. Now I guess we're glad all right.
We'll be keepin' house tergether, jest you and me, all that time.
We will, we will!"

Pollyanna looked shocked.

"Glad! Oh, Nancy, when it's a funeral?"

"Oh, but 'twa'n't the funeral I was glad for, Miss Pollyanna. It
was--" Nancy stopped abruptly. A shrewd twinkle came into her
eyes. "Why, Miss Pollyanna, as if it wa'n't yerself that was
teachin' me ter play the game," she reproached her gravely.

Pollyanna puckered her forehead into a troubled frown.

"I can't help it, Nancy," she argued with a shake of her head.
"It must be that there are some things that 'tisn't right to play
the game on--and I'm sure funerals is one of them. There's
nothing in a funeral to be glad about."

Nancy chuckled.

"We can be glad 'tain't our'n," she observed demurely. But
Pollyanna did not hear. She had begun to tell of the accident;
and in a moment Nancy, open-mouthed, was listening.

At the appointed place the next afternoon, Pollyanna met Jimmy