"Game? What game?"

"Why, that father--" Pollyanna clapped her hand to her lips.
"N-nothing," she stammered. Miss Polly frowned.

"That will do for this morning, Pollyanna," she said tersely. And
the sewing lesson was over.

It was that afternoon that Pollyanna, coming down from her attic
room, met her aunt on the stairway.

"Why, Aunt Polly, how perfectly lovely!" she cried. "You were
coming up to see me! Come right in. I love company," she
finished, scampering up the stairs and throwing her door wide
open.

Now Miss Polly had not been intending to call on her niece. She
had been planning to look for a certain white wool shawl in the
cedar chest near the east window. But to her unbounded surprise
now, she found herself, not in the main attic before the cedar
chest, but in Pollyanna's little room sitting in one of the
straight-backed chairs--so many, many times since Pollyanna came,
Miss Polly had found herself like this, doing some utterly
unexpected, surprising thing, quite unlike the thing she had set
out to do!

"I love company," said Pollyanna, again, flitting about as if she
were dispensing the hospitality of a palace; "specially since
I've had this room, all mine, you know. Oh, of course, I had a