want Pollyanna. May I have her?

"I met you and your husband last March when you came on to take
Pollyanna home, but I presume you don't remember me. I am asking Dr.
Ames (who does know me very well) to write your husband, so that you
may (I hope) not fear to trust your dear little niece to us.

"I understand that you would go to Germany with your husband but for
leaving Pollyanna; and so I am making so bold as to ask you to let us
take her. Indeed, I am begging you to let us have her, dear Mrs.
Chilton. And now let me tell you why.

"My sister, Mrs. Carew, is a lonely, broken-hearted, discontented,
unhappy woman. She lives in a world of gloom, into which no sunshine
penetrates. Now I believe that if anything on earth can bring the
sunshine into her life, it is your niece, Pollyanna. Won't you let her
try? I wish I could tell you what she has done for the Sanatorium
here, but nobody could TELL. You would have to see it. I long ago
discovered that you can't TELL about Pollyanna. The minute you try to,
she sounds priggish and preachy, and--impossible. Yet you and I know
she is anything but that. You just have to bring Pollyanna on to the
scene and let her speak for herself. And so I want to take her to my
sister--and let her speak for herself. She would attend school, of
course, but meanwhile I truly believe she would be healing the wound
in my sister's heart.

"I don't know how to end this letter. I believe it's harder than it
was to begin it. I'm afraid I don't want to end it at all. I just want
to keep talking and talking, for fear, if I stop, it'll give you a
chance to say no. And so, if you ARE tempted to say that dreadful