Though his face and words expressed polite doubt, it might have been
noticed that he sat a little straighter on the bench. "And, pray, what
shall we talk about?"

"It's--it's infinitesimal to me. That means I don't care, doesn't it?"
asked Pollyanna, with a beaming smile. "Aunt Polly says that, whatever
I talk about, anyhow, I always bring up at the Ladies' Aiders. But I
reckon that's because they brought me up first, don't you? We might
talk about the party. I think it's a perfectly beautiful party--now
that I know some one."

"P-party?"

"Yes--this, you know--all these people here to-day. It IS a party,
isn't it? The lady said it was for everybody, so I stayed--though I
haven't got to where the house is, yet, that's giving the party."

The man's lips twitched.

"Well, little lady, perhaps it is a party, in a way," he smiled; "but
the 'house' that's giving it is the city of Boston. This is the Public
Garden--a public park, you understand, for everybody."

"Is it? Always? And I may come here any time I want to? Oh, how
perfectly lovely! That's even nicer than I thought it could be. I'd
worried for fear I couldn't ever come again, after to-day, you see.
I'm glad now, though, that I didn't know it just at the first, for
it's all the nicer now. Nice things are nicer when you've been
worrying for fear they won't be nice, aren't they?"