“Does he know who you—­are, Pollyanna?”

The little girl sighed.

“I reckon not.  I told him my name, once, but he never calls me it—­never.”

“Does he know where you—­live?”

“Oh, no.  I never told him that.”

“Then he doesn’t know you’re my—­niece?”

“I don’t think so.”

For a moment there was silence.  Miss Polly was looking at Pollyanna with eyes that did not seem to see her at all.  The little girl, shifting impatiently from one small foot to the other, sighed audibly.  Then Miss Polly roused herself with a start.

“Very well, Pollyanna,” she said at last, still in that queer voice, so unlike her own; “you may you may take the jelly to Mr. Pendleton as your own gift.  But understand:  I do not send it.  Be very sure that he does not think I do!”

“Yes’m—­no’m—­thank you, Aunt Polly,” exulted Pollyanna, as she flew through the door.

CHAPTER XV.  DR. CHILTON

The great gray pile of masonry looked very different to Pollyanna when she made her second visit to the house of Mr. John Pendleton.  Windows were open, an elderly woman was hanging out clothes in the back yard, and the doctor’s gig stood under the porte-cochere.

As before Pollyanna went to the side door.  This time she rang the bell—­her fingers were not stiff to-day from a tight clutch on a bunch of keys.

A familiar-looking small dog bounded up the steps to greet her, but there was a slight delay before the woman who had been hanging out the clothes opened the door.

“If you please, I’ve brought some calf’s-foot jelly for Mr. Pendleton,” smiled Pollyanna.

“Thank you,” said the woman, reaching for the bowl in the little girl’s hand.  “Who shall I say sent it?  And it’s calf’s-foot jelly?”

The doctor, coming into the hall at that moment, heard the woman’s words and saw the disappointed look on Pollyanna’s face.  He stepped quickly forward.

“Ah!  Some calf’s-foot jelly?” he asked genially.  “That will be fine!  Maybe you’d like to see our patient, eh?”

“Oh, yes, sir,” beamed Pollyanna; and the woman, in obedience to a nod from the doctor, led the way down the hall at once, though plainly with vast surprise on her face.

Behind the doctor, a young man (a trained nurse from the nearest city) gave a disturbed exclamation.

“But, Doctor, didn’t Mr. Pendleton give orders not to admit—­any one?”

“Oh, yes,” nodded the doctor, imperturbably.  “But I’m giving orders now.  I’ll take the risk.”  Then he added whimsically:  “You don’t know, of course; but that little girl is better than a six-quart bottle of tonic any day.  If anything or anybody can take the grouch out of Pendleton this afternoon, she can.  That’s why I sent her in.”

“Who is she?”

For one brief moment the doctor hesitated.