“And ’tisn’t cold at all, either, even if ’tis October,” observed Pollyanna, still more hopefully. “Mr. Pendleton had a fire, but he said he didn’t need it. It was just to look at. I like to look at fires, don’t you?”
“Why, Aunt Polly, I should think you’d be glad to have folks like to look at you! Don’t you like to look at pretty things? I’m ever so much happier when I look at pretty folks, ’cause when I look at the other kind I’m so sorry for them.”
“I know; but you’re HELPING it – don’t you see? – and of course you’re glad to help it! And so that makes you the gladdest of any of us, all the time.”
“Why, I don’t know. I reckon perhaps there are,” she admitted. “I like to do ’most everything that’s LIVING. Of course I don’t like the other things very well – sewing, and reading out loud, and all that. But THEY aren’t LIVING.”