boy who, eight long years before, had stepped as into another world,
leaving the door fast shut between.

"And you've never seen him since--anywhere?" faltered Pollyanna, with
tear-wet eyes, when the story was done.

"Never."

"But we'll find him, Mrs. Carew--I'm sure we'll find him."

Mrs. Carew shook her head sadly.

"But I can't. I've looked everywhere, even in foreign lands."

"But he must be somewhere."

"He may be--dead, Pollyanna."

Pollyanna gave a quick cry.

"Oh, no, Mrs. Carew. Please don't say that! Let's imagine he's alive.
We CAN do that, and that'll help; and when we get him IMAGINED alive
we can just as well imagine we're going to find him. And that'll help
a whole lot more."

"But I'm afraid he's--dead, Pollyanna," choked Mrs. Carew.

"You don't know it for sure, do you?" besought the little girl,
anxiously.