Pollyanna did not see the boy “tomorrow.” It rained, and she could not go to the Garden at all. It rained the next day, too. Even on the third day she did not see him, for, though the sun came out bright and warm, and though she went very early in the afternoon to the Garden and waited long, he did not come at all. But on the fourth day he was there in his old place, and Pollyanna hastened forward with a joyous greeting.
“Oh, I’m so glad, glad to see you! But where’ve you been? You weren’t here yesterday at all.”
“I couldn’t. The pain wouldn’t let me come yesterday,” explained the lad, who was looking very white.
“The pain! Oh, does it – ache?” stammered Pollyanna, all sympathy at once.
“Oh, yes, always,” nodded the boy, with a cheerfully matter-of-fact 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 letup 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 today. 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?”
“Oh, no, there’s never any left at home,” laughed the boy. “You see, Mumsey works out – stairs and washings – so she gets some of her feed in them places, and Jerry picks his up where he can, except nights and mornings; he gets it with us then – if we’ve got any.”
Pollyanna looked still more shocked.
“But what do you do when you don’t have anything to eat?”
“Go hungry, of course.”
“But I never heard of anybody who didn’t have anything to eat,” gasped Pollyanna. “Of course Father and I were poor, and we had to eat beans and fish-balls when we wanted turkey. But we had something. Why don’t you tell folks – all these folks everywhere, that live in these houses? “
“What’s the use?”
“Why, they’d give you something, of course!”
The boy laughed once more, this time a little queerly.
“Guess again, kid. You’ve got another one coming. Nobody I know is dishin’ out roast beef and frosted cakes for the askin”. Besides, if you didn’t go hungry once in a while, you wouldn’t know how good ‘taters and milk can taste; and you wouldn’t have so much to put in your Jolly Book.”
“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 lose my legs for a while?”
“Did you? Then you do know, some. But you’ve got yours again. I hain’t, you know,” sighed the boy, the shadow in his eyes deepening.
“But you haven’t told me yet about – the Jolly Book,” prompted Pollyanna after a minute.
The boy stirred and laughed shamefacedly.
“Well, you see, it ain’t much, after all, except to me. You wouldn’t see much in it. I started it a year ago. I was feelin’ ’specially bad that day. Nothin’ was right. For a while I grumped it out, just thinkin’; and then I picked up one of Father’s books and tried to read. And the first thing I see was this; I learned it afterwards, so I can say it now.