air. "Most generally I can stand it and come here just the same,
except when it gets TOO bad, same as 'twas yesterday. Then I can't."

"But how can you stand it--to have it ache--always?" gasped Pollyanna.

"Why, I have to," answered the boy, opening his eyes a little wider.
"Things that are so are SO, and they can't be any other way. So what's
the use thinking how they might be? Besides, the harder it aches one
day, the nicer 'tis to have it let-up the next."

"I know! That's like the ga--" began Pollyanna; but the boy
interrupted her.

"Did you bring a lot this time?" he asked anxiously. "Oh, I hope you
did! You see I couldn't bring them any to-day. Jerry couldn't spare
even a penny for peanuts this morning and there wasn't really enough
stuff in the box for me this noon."

Pollyanna looked shocked.

"You mean--that you didn't have enough to eat--yourself?--for YOUR
luncheon?"

"Sure!" smiled the boy. "But don't worry. Tisn't the first time--and
'twon't be the last. I'm used to it. Hi, there! here comes Sir
Lancelot."

Pollyanna, however, was not thinking of squirrels.

"And wasn't there any more at home?"