"It IS a nice day, isn't it?"

The man turned his head with a start.

"Eh? Oh--er--what did you say?" he questioned, with a curiously
frightened look around to make sure the remark was addressed to him.

"I said 'twas a nice day," explained Pollyanna in hurried earnestness;
"but I don't care about that especially. That is, of course I'm glad
it's a nice day, but I said it just as a beginning to things, and I'd
just as soon talk about something else--anything else. It's only that
I wanted you to talk--about something, you see."

The man gave a low laugh. Even to Pollyanna the laugh sounded a little
queer, though she did not know (as did the man) that a laugh to his
lips had been a stranger for many months.

"So you want me to talk, do you?" he said a little sadly. "Well, I
don't see but what I shall have to do it, then. Still, I should think
a nice little lady like you might find lots nicer people to talk to
than an old duffer like me."

"Oh, but I like old duffers," exclaimed Pollyanna quickly; "that is, I
like the OLD part, and I don't know what a duffer is, so I can't
dislike that. Besides, if you are a duffer, I reckon I like duffers.
Anyhow, I like you," she finished, with a contented little settling of
herself in her seat that carried conviction.

"Humph! Well, I'm sure I'm flattered," smiled the man, ironically.