Aunt Polly, they're so pretty!"

"Nonsense! What do you mean, Pollyanna, by going to the Ladies'
Aid the other day in that absurd fashion about that beggar boy?"

"But it isn't nonsense," urged Pollyanna, answering only the
first of her aunt's remarks. "You don't know how pretty you look
with your hair like that! Oh, Aunt Polly, please, mayn't I do
your hair like I did Mrs. Snow's, and put in a flower? I'd so
love to see you that way! Why, you'd be ever so much prettier
than she was!"

"Pollyanna!" (Miss Polly spoke very sharply--all the more
sharply because Pollyanna's words had given her an odd throb of
joy: when before had anybody cared how she, or her hair looked?
When before had anybody "loved" to see her "pretty"?) "Pollyanna,
you did not answer my question. Why did you go to the Ladies' Aid
in that absurd fashion?"

"Yes'm, I know; but, please, I didn't know it was absurd until I
went and found out they'd rather see their report grow than
Jimmy. So then I wrote to MY Ladies' Aiders--'cause Jimmy is far
away from them, you know; and I thought maybe he could be their
little India boy same as--Aunt Polly, WAS I your little India
girl? And, Aunt Polly, you WILL let me do your hair, won't you?"

Aunt Polly put her hand to her throat--the old, helpless feeling
was upon her, she knew.

"But, Pollyanna, when the ladies Old me this afternoon how you