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           "Oh,no,Idon’tminditatall,"sheexplainedtoNancy. "I’mhappyjusttowalkaroundandseethestreetsandthehousesandwatchthepeople. Ijustlovepeople. Don’tyou,Nancy?" 

           "Well,Ican’tsayIdo—allof‘em,"retortedNancy,tersely. 

           AlmosteverypleasantafternoonfoundPollyannabeggingfor"anerrandtorun,"sothatshemightbeoffforawalkinonedirectionoranother; anditwasonthesewalksthatfrequentlyshemettheMan. ToherselfPollyannaalwayscalledhim"theMan,"nomatterifshemetadozenothermenthesameday. 

           TheManoftenworealongblackcoatandahighsilkhat—twothingsthatthe"justmen"neverwore. Hisfacewascleanshavenandratherpale,andhishair,showingbelowhishat,wassomewhatgray. Hewalkederect,andratherrapidly,andhewasalwaysalone,whichmadePollyannavaguelysorryforhim. Perhapsitwasbecauseofthisthatsheonedayspoketohim. 

           "Howdoyoudo,sir? Isn’tthisaniceday?"shecalledcheerily,assheapproachedhim. 

           Themanthrewahurriedglanceabouthim,thenstoppeduncertainly. 

           "Didyouspeak—tome?"heaskedinasharpvoice. 

           "Yes,sir,"beamedPollyanna. "Isay,it’saniceday,isn’tit?" 

           "Eh?Oh!Humph!"hegrunted; andstrodeonagain. 

           Pollyannalaughed. Hewassuchafunnyman,shethought. 

           Thenextdayshesawhimagain. 

           "‘Tisn’tquitesoniceasyesterday,butit’sprettynice,"shecalledoutcheerfully.