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POLLY OF THE HOSPITAL STAFF
by
EMMA C. DOWD
Boston and New York
Houghton Mifflin Company
The Riverside Press Cambridge
1912
To 'The Mother of Polly'
Contents
I. The Cherry-Pudding Story
II. The Election of Polly
III. Popover
IV. David
V. With the Assistance of Lone Star
VI. Elsie's Birthday
VII. The Little Sad Lady
VIII. A Warning From Aunt Jane
IX. A Night of Song
X. The Ward's Anniversary
XI. Polly Plays the part of Eva
XII. The Kidnapping of Polly
XIII. The Return
XIV. Polly's "Anne Sisters"
XV. A Bid for Polly
XVI. A secret
XVII. The Wedding
Illustrations
The Story of the Wonderful White Flower
"Once Upon a Time," she began
Forgetting all but the music she loved
This Document Makes You Legally our own Daughter
From drawings by Irma Deremeaux
POLLY OF THE HOSPITAL STAFF
Chapter I
The Cherry-Pudding Story
The June breeze hurried up from the harbor to the big house on the
hill, and fluttered playfully past the window vines into the
children's convalescent ward. It was a common saying at the
hospital that the tidal breeze always reached the children's ward
first. Sometimes the little people were waiting for it, ready
with their welcome; but to-day there were none to laugh a
greeting. The room was very quiet. The occupants of the little
white cots had slept unusually long, and the few that had awakened
from their afternoon naps were still too drowsy to be astir.
Besides, Polly was not there, and the ward was never the same
without Polly.
As the young nurse in charge passed noiselessly between the rows
of beds, a small hand pulled at her apron.
"Ain't it 'most time for Polly to come?"
"Yes, I think she will be back pretty soon now." Miss Lucy
smiled down into the wistful little face.
"I want Polly to tell me a story," Elsie went on, with a bit of
a whine: "my hip aches so bad."
"Does it feel worse to-day?" asked the nurse sympathetically.
"No; I guess not," answered the little girl, glad of a listener.
"It aches all the time, 'cept when I'm asleep or Polly's tellin'
stories."
"I know," and Miss Lucy's face grew grave. "We shall miss
Polly."
"When's she goin' home?" The blue eyes went suddenly anxious.
"Oh, not until next week!" was the cheerful response. "There'll
be time for plenty of stories before then."
"A-h-h!" wailed little French Aimee, from the opposite cot.
"Pollee go?"
"Why, yes," smiled Miss Lucy, with a quick turn. "Polly is
almost well, and well little girls don't stay at the hospital, you
know. Pretty soon you will go home, too."
The nurse passed on, but Aimee's face remained clouded. Next
week--no Pollee!
Other ears besides Aimee's had overheard the news about Polly.
Maggie O'Donnell and Otto Kriloff stared at each other in dismay.
Why, Polly had been there long before they came! It had never
occurred to them that Polly could leave.
When Miss Lucy reached Maggie's bed, the little girl was softly
crying.
"I--don't--want--Polly to go!" she sobbed.
"Dear me! Dear me!" exclaimed the nurse, "this will never do!"
Then, listening, she whispered, "Hark! Who is that skipping along
the hall?"
At the instant, the door opened, and a little girl, her brown eyes
shining with pleasure, her cheeks pink as the poppies on the front
lawn, and her yellow curls all tossed and tumbled by the wind,
whirled into the ward.
"Oh, Polly!" passed, a breath of joy, from lip to lip.
"I've had a lovelicious time!" she began.
"We went 'way down to Rockmoor!--Did you ever ride in an auto,
Miss Lucy?"
The nurse nodded happily. It was good to have Polly back.
"Seems's if you'd never come!" broke out Elsie Meyer. "I've been
waitin' an' waitin' for a story."
"I'll have my things off in a minute," responded Polly, "and
you'll say my story is worth waiting for."
"A new one?"
"Brand-new!"
"Where'd you get it?"
"A lady told me--a lady Dr. Dudley took me to see. It's a
'Cherry-Pudding Story.'--Oh, you just wait till I put my coat
and hat away, and change my dress!" Polly danced off, the young
nurse following with a soft sigh. What should she do without this
little sunshine-maker!
The ward was wide awake when Polly returned. The few that were
far enough along to be up and dressed had left their cots, and
were grouped around Elsie Meyer's bed, each solicitous for the
closest seat to the story-teller.
"Everybody ready?" questioned Polly, settling herself
comfortable in the little rocker. Then she popped up. "You need
this chair, Leonora, more than I do;" and before the lame girl
had time to protest the exchange had been made.
"Polly, talk loud, so I can hear!" piped up a shrill voice in
the corner of the ward.
"Sure I will, Linus," was the cherry response. "You must n't
miss a word of the 'Cherry-Pudding story.'"
"Once upon a time," she began, in the beautiful old way that all
fanciful stories should begin; and not the breath of a rustle
broke the sound of her gentle voice, while she narrated the
fortunes of the young king who loved stories so much that he
decided to wed only the girl that would write him a fresh one
every day.
As the little people followed the outcome of the royal edict,
their interest grew intense, for Polly was a real story-teller,
sweeping her listeners along with the narrative until all else was
forgotten.
When after long despairing days, young King Cerise found his
future queen in the very last girl, one who lived her stories
instead of writing them, and was as charming and good as she was
clever, the small folks became radiantly glad, and the tale drew
to a happy end with the king and queen living beautiful stories
and cherry puddings in every home all over the land.
Nobody spoke as Polly stopped. Then little Linus, away over in
the corner, piped up:--
"I wasn't some cherry pudding!"
Than made them laugh, and set the tongues going.
"Aw, ye'll have ter wait till ye git home!" returned Cornelius
O'Shaughnessy.
"Why will he? Why can't we all have some, Miss Lucy?"
The rest fairly held their breath at Elsie Meyer's boldness.
The nurse laughed. "Perhaps," she began slowly,--"mind, I
don't say for sure, but only perhaps,--if you'll all live a
brave, patient, cheerful story, with never a bit of a whine in it,
from now until to-morrow noon,--well, who knows what may
happen!"
"A cherry pudding may!" cried the irrepressible Elsie. "Oh, Miss
Lucy, I won't whine or cry, no matter how bad you hurt my hip when
you dress it--not the teentiest bit! See if I do!"
"Will Polly make up our stories for us?" queried Leonora Hewitt.
"Why, Miss Lucy has made one for all of us," laughed Polly. "We
are to be brave and patient and not make a fuss about anything,
and help everybody else to be happy--is n't that what you
meant, Miss Lucy?"
"Oh," replied the little lame girl, "guess that'll be a hard
kind!"
"Beautiful stories are not often easy to live," smiled the young
nurse; "but let's see which of us can live the best one."
"Polly will!" cried Maggie O'Donnell and Otto Kriloff together.