John Pendleton did not seem to hear.  Again his, eyes were staring straight before him, looking at nothing.  But soon he had roused himself, and had picked up another curio to talk about.

The visit, certainly, was a delightful one, but before it was over, Pollyanna was realizing that they were talking about something besides the wonderful things in the beautiful carved box.  They were talking of herself, of Nancy, of Aunt Polly, and of her daily life.  They were talking, too, even of the life and home long ago in the far Western town.

Not until it was nearly time for her to go, did the man say, in a voice Pollyanna had never before heard from stern John Pendleton: 

“Little girl, I want you to come to see me often.  Will you?  I’m lonesome, and I need you.  There’s another reason—­and I’m going to tell you that, too.  I thought, at first, after I found out who you were, the other day, that I didn’t want you to come any more.  You reminded me of—­of something I have tried for long years to forget.  So I said to myself that I never wanted to see you again; and every day, when the doctor asked if I wouldn’t let him bring you to me, I said no.

“But after a time I found I was wanting to see you so much that—­that the fact that I wasn’t seeing you was making me remember all the more vividly the thing I was so wanting to forget.  So now I want you to come.  Will you—­little girl?”

“Why, yes, Mr. Pendleton,” breathed Pollyanna, her eyes luminous with sympathy for the sad-faced man lying back on the pillow before her.  “I’d love to come!”

“Thank you,” said John Pendleton, gently.

After supper that evening, Pollyanna, sitting on the back porch, told Nancy all about Mr. John Pendleton’s wonderful carved box, and the still more wonderful things it contained.

“And ter think,” sighed Nancy, “that he showed ye all them things, and told ye about ’em like that—­him that’s so cross he never talks ter no one—­no one!”

“Oh, but he isn’t cross, Nancy, only outside,” demurred Pollyanna, with quick loyalty.  “I don’t see why everybody thinks he’s so bad, either.  They wouldn’t, if they knew him.  But even Aunt Polly doesn’t like him very well.  She wouldn’t send the jelly to him, you know, and she was so afraid he’d think she did send it!”

“Probably she didn’t call him no duty,” shrugged Nancy.  “But what beats me is how he happened ter take ter you so, Miss Pollyanna—­meanin’ no offence ter you, of course—­but he ain’t the sort o’ man what gen’rally takes ter kids; he ain’t, he ain’t.”

Pollyanna smiled happily.

“But he did, Nancy,” she nodded, “only I reckon even he didn’t want to—­all the time.  Why, only to-day he owned up that one time he just felt he never wanted to see me again, because I reminded him of something he wanted to forget.  But afterwards—­”

“What’s that?” interrupted Nancy, excitedly.  “He said you reminded him of something he wanted to forget?”