ast two or three barrels; and--did you
ever have a missionary barrel, Aunt Polly?"

At her aunt's look of shocked anger, Pollyanna corrected herself at
once.

"Why, no, of course you didn't, Aunt Polly!" she hurried on, with a
hot blush. "I forgot; rich folks never have to have them. But you see
sometimes I kind of forget that you are rich--up here in this room, you
know."

Miss Polly's lips parted indignantly, but no words came. Pollyanna,
plainly unaware that she had said anything in the least unpleasant, was
hurrying on.

"Well, as I was going to say, you can't tell a thing about missionary
barrels--except that you won't find in 'em what you think you're going
to--even when you think you won't. It was the barrels every time, too,
that were hardest to play the game on, for father and--"

Just in time Pollyanna remembered that she was not to talk of her father
to her aunt. She dived into her closet then, hurriedly, and brought out
all the poor little dresses in both her arms.

"They aren't nice, at all," she choked, "and they'd been black if it
hadn't been for the red carpet for the church; but they're all I've
got."

With the tips of her fingers Miss Polly turned over the conglomerate
garments, so obviously made for anybody but Pollyanna. Next she bestowed
frowning attention on the patched undergarments in the bureau drawers.

"I've got the best ones on," confessed Pollyanna, anxiously. "The
Ladies' Aid bought me one set straight through all whole. Mrs.
Jones--she's the president--told 'em I should have that if they had to
clatter down bare aisles themselves the rest of their days. But they
won't. Mr. White doesn't like the noise. He's got nerves, his wife says;
but he's got money, too, and they expect he'll give a lot toward the
carpet--on account of the nerves, you know. I should think he'd be glad
that if he did have the nerves he'd got money, too; shouldn't you?"

Miss Polly did not seem to hear. Her scrutiny of the undergarments
finished, she turned to Pollyanna somewhat abruptly.

"You have been to school, of course, Pollyanna?"

"Oh, yes, Aunt Polly. Besides, fath--I mean, I was taught at home some,
too."

Miss Polly frowned.

"Very good. In the fall you will enter school here, of course. Mr.
Hall, the principal, will doubtless settle in which grade you belong.
Meanwhile, I suppose I ought to hear you read aloud half an hour each
day."

"I love to read; but if you don't want to hear me I'd be