"Your WHAT?"

The boy gave an embarrassed laugh and grew suddenly red.

"Forget it! I didn't think, for a minute, but you was mumsey or
Jerry."

"But what IS your Jolly Book?" pleaded Pollyanna. "Please tell me. Are
there knights and lords and ladies in that?"

The boy shook his head. His eyes lost their laughter and grew dark and
fathomless.

"No; I wish't there was," he sighed wistfully. "But when you--you
can't even WALK, you can't fight battles and win trophies, and have
fair ladies hand you your sword, and bestow upon you the golden
guerdon." A sudden fire came to the boy's eyes. His chin lifted itself
as if in response to a bugle call. Then, as suddenly, the fire died,
and the boy fell back into his old listlessness.

"You just can't do nothin'," he resumed wearily, after a moment's
silence. "You just have to sit and think; and times like that your
THINK gets to be something awful. Mine did, anyhow. I wanted to go to
school and learn things--more things than just mumsey can teach me;
and I thought of that. I wanted to run and play ball with the other
boys; and I thought of that. I wanted to go out and sell papers with
Jerry; and I thought of that. I didn't want to be taken care of all my
life; and I thought of that."

"I know, oh, I know," breathed Pollyanna, with shining eyes. "Didn't I