ome jelly. The
doctor said I was to--to bring her in."

The next moment Pollyanna found herself alone with a very cross-looking
man lying flat on his back in bed.

"See here, didn't I say--" began an angry voice. "Oh, it's you!" it
broke off not very graciously, as Pollyanna advanced toward the bed.

"Yes, sir," smiled Pollyanna. "Oh, I'm so glad they let me in! You see,
at first the lady 'most took my jelly, and I was so afraid I wasn't
going to see you at all. Then the doctor came, and he said I might.
Wasn't he lovely to let me see you?"

In spite of himself the man's lips twitched into a smile; but all he
said was "Humph!"

"And I've brought you some jelly," resumed Pollyanna; "--calf's-foot. I
hope you like it?" There was a rising inflection in her voice.

"Never ate it." The fleeting smile had gone, and the scowl had come back
to the man's face.

For a brief instant Pollyanna's countenance showed disappointment; but
it cleared as she set the bowl of jelly down.

"Didn't you? Well, if you didn't, then you can't know you DON'T like it,
anyhow, can you? So I reckon I'm glad you haven't, after all. Now, if
you knew--"

"Yes, yes; well, there's one thing I know all right, and that is that
I'm flat on my back right here this minute, and that I'm liable to stay
here--till doomsday, I guess."

Pollyanna looked shocked.

"Oh, no! It couldn't be till doomsday, you know, when the angel Gabriel
blows his trumpet, unless it should come quicker than we think it
will--oh, of course, I know the Bible says it may come quicker than
we think, but I don't think it will--that is, of course I believe the
Bible; but I mean I don't think it will come as much quicker as it would
if it should come now, and--"

John Pendleton laughed suddenly--and aloud. The nurse, coming in at that
moment, heard the laugh, and beat a hurried--but a very silent--retreat.
He had the air of a frightened cook who, seeing the danger of a breath
of cold air striking a half-done cake, hastily shuts the oven door.

"Aren't you getting a little mixed?" asked John Pendleton of Pollyanna.

The little girl laughed.

"Maybe. But what I mean is, that legs don't last--broken ones, you
know--like lifelong invalids, same as Mrs. Snow has got. So yours won't
last till doomsday at all. I should think you could be glad of that."

"Oh, I am," retorted the man grimly.

"And you didn't break but one. You can be glad 'twasn't two." Pollyanna
was warming to h