At last the dog pricked up his cars and whined softly; then he gave a short, sharp bark.  The next moment Pollyanna heard voices, and very soon their owners appeared three men carrying a stretcher and various other articles.

The tallest of the party—­a smooth-shaven, kind-eyed man whom Pollyanna knew by sight as “Dr. Chilton”—­advanced cheerily.

“Well, my little lady, playing nurse?”

“Oh, no, sir,” smiled Pollyanna.  “I’ve only held his head—­I haven’t given him a mite of medicine.  But I’m glad I was here.”

“So am I,” nodded the doctor, as he turned his absorbed attention to the injured man.

CHAPTER XIV.  JUST A MATTER OF JELLY

Pollyanna was a little late for supper on the night of the accident to John Pendleton; but, as it happened, she escaped without reproof.

Nancy met her at the door.

“Well, if I ain’t glad ter be settin’ my two eyes on you,” she sighed in obvious relief.  “It’s half-past six!”

“I know it,” admitted Pollyanna anxiously; “but I’m not to blame—­truly I’m not.  And I don’t think even Aunt Polly will say I am, either.”

“She won’t have the chance,” retorted Nancy, with huge satisfaction.  “She’s gone.”

“Gone!” gasped Pollyanna.  “You don’t mean that I’ve driven her away?” Through Pollyanna’s mind at the moment trooped remorseful memories of the morning with its unwanted boy, cat, and dog, and its unwelcome “glad” and forbidden “father” that would spring to her forgetful little tongue.  Oh, I didn’t drive her away?”

“Not much you did,” scoffed Nancy.  “Her cousin died suddenly down to Boston, and she had ter go.  She had one o’ them yeller telegram letters after you went away this afternoon, and she won’t be back for three days.  Now I guess we’re glad all right.  We’ll be keepin’ house tergether, jest you and me, all that time.  We will, we will!”

Pollyanna looked shocked.

“Glad!  Oh, Nancy, when it’s a funeral?”

“Oh, but ’twa’n’t the funeral I was glad for, Miss Pollyanna.  It was—­” Nancy stopped abruptly.  A shrewd twinkle came into her eyes.  “Why, Miss Pollyanna, as if it wa’n’t yerself that was teachin’ me ter play the game,” she reproached her gravely.

Pollyanna puckered her forehead into a troubled frown.

“I can’t help it, Nancy,” she argued with a shake of her head.  “It must be that there are some things that ’tisn’t right to play the game on—­and I’m sure funerals is one of them.  There’s nothing in a funeral to be glad about.”

Nancy chuckled.

“We can be glad ’tain’t our’n,” she observed demurely.  But Pollyanna did not hear.  She had begun to tell of the accident; and in a moment Nancy, open-mouthed, was listening.

At the appointed place the next afternoon, Pollyanna met Jimmy Bean according to agreement.  As was to be expected, of course, Jimmy showed keen disappointment that the Ladies’ Aid preferred a little India boy to himself.