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Pollyanna Grows Up by Eleanor H. (Eleanor Hodgman) Porter
page 96 of 312 (30%)

"Sure!"

Pollyanna relaxed visibly. Her face fell. If this Jamie had a mother,
he could not, of course, be Mrs. Carew's Jamie, whose mother had died
long ago. Still, even as he was, he was wonderfully interesting.

"But where do you live?" she catechized eagerly. "Is there anybody
else in your family but your mother and--and Jerry? Do you always come
here every day? Where is your Jolly Book? Mayn't I see it? Don't the
doctors say you can ever walk again? And where was it you said you got
it?--this wheel chair, I mean."

The boy chuckled.

"Say, how many of them questions do you expect me to answer all at
once? I'll begin at the last one, anyhow, and work backwards, maybe,
if I don't forget what they be. I got this chair a year ago. Jerry
knew one of them fellers what writes for papers, you know, and he put
it in about me--how I couldn't ever walk, and all that, and--and the
Jolly Book, you see. The first thing I knew, a whole lot of men and
women come one day toting this chair, and said 'twas for me. That
they'd read all about me, and they wanted me to have it to remember
them by."

"My! how glad you must have been!"

"I was. It took a whole page of my Jolly Book to tell about that
chair."

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