on the way to Mr.
Pendleton's, and she's got the prettiest little girl baby three
years old, and a boy 'most five. She's awfully nice, and so's her
husband--only they don't seem to know how nice each other is. Sometimes
they fight--I mean, they don't quite agree. They're poor, too, they say,
and of course they don't ever have barrels, 'cause he isn't a missionary
minister, you know, like--well, he isn't."

A faint color stole into Pollyanna's cheeks which was duplicated
suddenly in those of her aunt.

"But she wears real pretty clothes, sometimes, in spite of their being
so poor," resumed Pollyanna, in some haste. "And she's got perfectly
beautiful rings with diamonds and rubies and emeralds in them; but she
says she's got one ring too many, and that she's going to throw it away
and get a divorce instead. What is a divorce, Aunt Polly? I'm afraid it
isn't very nice, because she didn't look happy when she talked about it.
And she said if she did get it, they wouldn't live there any more, and
that Mr. Payson would go 'way off, and maybe the children, too. But I
should think they'd rather keep the ring, even if they did have so many
more. Shouldn't you? Aunt Polly, what is a divorce?"

"But they aren't going 'way off, dear," evaded Aunt Polly, hurriedly.
"They're going to stay right there together."

"Oh, I'm so glad! Then they'll be there when I go up to see--O dear!"
broke off the little girl, miserably. "Aunt Polly, why CAN'T I remember
that my legs don't go any more, and that I won't ever, ever go up to see
Mr. Pendleton again?"

"There, there, don't," choked her aunt. "Perhaps you'll drive up
sometime. But listen! I haven't told you, yet, all that Mrs. Payson
said. She wanted me to tell you that they--they were going to stay
together and to play the game, just as you wanted them to."

Pollyanna smiled through tear-wet eyes.

"Did they? Did they, really? Oh, I am glad of that!"

"Yes, she said she hoped you'd be. That's why she told you, to make
you--GLAD, Pollyanna."

Pollyanna looked up quickly.

"Why, Aunt Polly, you--you spoke just as if you knew--DO you know about
the game, Aunt Polly?"

"Yes, dear." Miss Polly sternly forced her voice to be cheerfully
matter-of-fact. "Nancy told me. I think it's a beautiful game. I'm going
to play it now--with you."

"Oh, Aunt Polly--YOU? I'm so glad! You see, I've really wanted you most
of anybody, all the time."

Aunt Polly caught her breath a little sharply. I