Miss
Polly's niece? And now hain't he owned up that you remind him of
somethin' he wants ter forget? Just as if ANYBODY couldn't see 'twas
Miss Polly!--an' her sayin' she wouldn't send him no jelly, too. Why,
Miss Pollyanna, it's as plain as the nose on yer face; it is, it is!"

"Oh-h!" breathed Pollyanna, in wide-eyed amazement. "But, Nancy, I
should think if they loved each other they'd make up some time. Both
of 'em all alone, so, all these years. I should think they'd be glad to
make up!"

Nancy sniffed disdainfully.

"I guess maybe you don't know much about lovers, Miss Pollyanna. You
ain't big enough yet, anyhow. But if there IS a set o' folks in the
world that wouldn't have no use for that 'ere 'glad game' o' your'n,
it'd be a pair o' quarrellin' lovers; and that's what they be. Ain't he
cross as sticks, most gen'rally?--and ain't she--"

Nancy stopped abruptly, remembering just in time to whom, and about
whom, she was speaking. Suddenly, however, she chuckled.

"I ain't sayin', though, Miss Pollyanna, but what it would be a pretty
slick piece of business if you could GET 'em ter playin' it--so they
WOULD be glad ter make up. But, my land! wouldn't folks stare some--Miss
Polly and him! I guess, though, there ain't much chance, much chance!"

Pollyanna said nothing; but when she went into the house a little later,
her face was very thoughtful.

CHAPTER XVIII. PRISMS

As the warm August days passed, Pollyanna went very frequently to the
great house on Pendleton Hill. She did not feel, however, that her
visits were really a success. Not but that the man seemed to want her
there--he sent for her, indeed, frequently; but that when she was
there, he seemed scarcely any the happier for her presence--at least, so
Pollyanna thought.

He talked to her, it was true, and he showed her many strange and
beautiful things--books, pictures, and curios. But he still fretted
audibly over his own helplessness, and he chafed visibly under the rules
and "regulatings" of the unwelcome members of his household. He did,
indeed, seem to like to hear Pollyanna talk, however, and Pollyanna
talked, Pollyanna liked to talk--but she was never sure that she would
not look up and find him lying back on his pillow with that white, hurt
look that always pained her; and she was never sure which--if any--of
her words had brought it there. As for telling him the "glad game," and
trying to get him to play it--Pollyanna had never seen t