The Election of Polly
The convalescent ward was finishing its noonday feast when Miss
Hortensia Price appeared. Miss Hortensia Price was straight and
tall, with somber black eyes and thin, serious lips. Many of the
children were greatly in awe of the dignified nurse; but Elsie
Meyer was bold enough to announce:--
"We're livin' a cherry-pudding story!" And she beamed up from
her ruby-colored plate.
"What?" scowled the visitor.
The tone was puzzled rather tan harsh, yet Elsie shrank back in
sudden abashment.
"Polly told us a story yesterday," explained Miss Lucy, the pink
deepening on her delicate cheeks, "and it made the children want
some cherry pudding for dinner. It is not rich," she added
apologetically.
The elder nurse responded only with a courteous "Oh!" and then
remarked, "What I came down to say is this: I shall send you
three cases from my ward at half-past two o'clock this afternoon."
"All right," was the cordial answer. "We shall be glad to
welcome them to our little family."
"High Price is awful solemn to-day," whispered Maggie O'Donnell
to Ethel Jones, as the door shut.
"High Price?" repeated Ethel, in a perplexed voice.
"Sh!" breathed the other. "She's 'High Price,' and Miss Lucy's
'Low Price,' 'cause she's so high and mighty and tall and
everything, and Miss Lucy's kind o' short and little and so
darling, and they ain't any relation either. I'm glad they
ain't," she added decidedly. "I would n't have Miss Lucy related
to her for anything!"
"Oh, no!" returned Ethel, comprehendingly, as she scraped her
plate for a last morsel of pudding.
The three "cases," which appeared in the convalescent ward
promptly at the hour named, proved to be two girls and a boy,--
Brida MacCarthy, Isabel Smith, and Moses Cohn. Polly did her
share in routing the evident fears of the small strangers, their
wide, anxious eye showing that they dreaded what might lie ahead
of them in these unknown quarters.
The wonderful giant story, which ended merrily,--as all of
Polly's stories did end,--made Moses her valiant follower as
long as he remained in the ward; the tender little slumber song,
which Polly's mother had taught her, put the tiny Isabel to sleep;
and the verses about the "Kit-Cat Luncheon" completely won the
heart of Irish Brida.
"I got a kitty, too!" she confided. "Her name's Popover, 'cause
when the kitties was all little, an' runnin' round, an' playin',
she'd pop right over on her back, jus' as funny! She's all black
concept[sic] a little spot o' white--oh, me kitty is the
prettiest kitty in town!"
"How shall I ever get along without her!" sighed the young
nurse, as she watched Polly flitting about like a sprite,
comforting restless little patients, hushing, with her ready tact,
quarrelsome tongues, and winning every heart by her gentle, loving
ways. Oh, the ward would be lonely indeed without Polly May!
None realized this more than Miss Lucy, unless it were Dr. Dudley,
the cherry house physician, whom all the children adored.
As the day set for Polly's going came near and nearer, the
mourning of the small convalescents increased, until the ward
would have been in danger of continual tears if it had not been
for Polly herself. She was gayer than ever, telling the funniest
stories and singing the merriest songs, and making her little
friends half forget that the good times were not going to last.
The children never guessed that this was almost as much to help
herself over the hard place as to cheer them. In fact, they
believed that her unusual high spirits came of her being glad to
leave the hospital. Even Miss Lucy could n't quite understand it
all. But Dr. Dudley knew; he had seen her face when she had been
told that she was soon to go.
It was not strange that Polly should dread parting from the people
with whom she had been so happy, for no mother or father or
pleasant home was waiting for her,--only Aunt Jane, in the
cramped, dingy little tenement,--Aunt Jane and her six unruly
girls and boys. Poly did not permit herself to think much about
going away, however, and the last evening found her cheerful
still. Then Elsie Meyer began her doleful suggestions.
"I wonder how often your Aunt Jane 'll let you come and see us.
P'r'aps she won't let you come at all--oh, my! If she don't,
maybe we'll never see you again!"
"Nonsense, Elsie! Don't go to conjuring up any such thing!"
broke in Miss Lucy's laughing voice. "Of course--why, Polly!"
For the little girl had been brought suddenly face to face with an
awful possibility, and her courage had given way. She was sobbing
on the foot of Elsie's bed.
A low rap on the half-open door sent Miss Lucy thither, and Polly
heard Dr. Dudley speak her name. A new terror took instant
possession of her heart. The Doctor had come to take her home!
She did not stop to reason. Dropping to the floor, she crept
softly under the cot, from there to the next and the next. Her
course was straight to the door through which the physician had
entered, and by the time he was halfway across the room she had
wriggled herself clear of the last cot, and was over the sill and
in the corridor, the twilight aiding her escape. Regaining her
feet, she darted noiselessly down the long hall. At the head of
the stairs she paused. On the floor below was a small alcove
where she might hide. Making sure that no one was in sight, she
sped down, but as she reached the lower step one of the nurses
opened the door opposite.
"What are you doing down here, Polly May?"
The question was pleasant, but the answer was miserably halting.
"I--I--thought--I'd just--come--"
"Did Miss Price send you for anything?"
This time the child detected a ring of suspicion.
"Oh, no! I--I--"
"Well, you'd better go right back. It is too late to be running
around for play. The halls must be kept quiet."
"Yes, Miss Bemont," responded Polly meekly, and turned to see
Dr. Dudley at the head of the flight.
There was nothing to do but to go forward, which she did, with
downcast eyes and a throbbing heart.
"Oh, here you are!" exclaimed the physician. "I've been looking
for you. I thought you would like to take a ride up to
Warringford. I shall be back before your bedtime, and Miss Lucy
says--why, Thistledown! What is the matter?"
The revulsion had been to great, and, leaning against the Doctor's
arm, Polly was softly sobbing.
The physician sat down on the stairs, and drew the fair little
head to his shoulder. In a minute he knew it all,--the sudden
fear that had assailed her, the creeping flight across the ward,
and the baffled attempt at hiding. As he listened, his eyes grew
grave and tender, for in the broken little confession he
comprehended the child's unspoken abhorrence of the life she had
left behind when she had come to the hospital five months before.
"I would n't worry about going back to Aunt Jane's," he said
brightly. "You may be sure I shan't let her monopolize my little
Polly. Now, run along and get on your hat and coat, for the air is
growing cool. We'll have a nice spin up to Warringford, and
you'll sleep all the better for it."
Polly skipped away smiling, but presently was down in the office,
--without her wraps.
"The children feel so bad to have me go," she said soberly, "I
guess I'd better stay with them--seeing it's the last night."
Her lip quivered.
"Selfish little pigs!" returned the Doctor. "They are n't
willing anybody else shall have a taste of you."
Polly laughed. "Well, they want me to tell them a story, so I'd
better, don't you think?"
"I suppose it's kinder to them than to go for a joy ride; but
it's hard on me."
Dr. Dudley assumed a scowl of disapproval.
The child hesitated. "You know I'd rather go with you," she said
sweetly; "but they--"
"I understand all about it, brave little woman," throwing an arm
around the slender shoulders, "and I won't make it any harder for
you. Go and tell your story, and let it be a merry one.
Remember, that's the Doctor's order! Good-night."
Polly threw him a kiss from the doorway, and then he heard her
light footfalls on the stairs.
It was one of his few leisure hours, and he sat for a long time
looking out on the quiet street, where his small motor car stood
waiting. He had no inclination for a spin to Warringford now; he
was thinking too deeply about the little girl who had held so
large a share of his big heart since the day when he had first
seen her, lying so white and still, with the life all but crushed
out of her. It had not seemed possible then that she would ever
again dance around like the other children; yet her she was,
without even the bit of a limp--and going home to-morrow! Home!
He could imagine the kind of place it was, and he shook his head
gravely over the picture. Twice in the first months of Polly's
stay at the hospital her aunt had been to visit her; recently she
had not appeared. He recollected her well,--a tall, lean
woman, with unshapely garments, and a strident voice.
At eight o'clock Dr. Dudley cranked up his machine, and started
away; but he did not go in the direction of Warringford. He
turned down one of the narrow streets that led to Aunt Jane's
home.
Meantime, up in the ward, Polly had been following the Doctor's
directions until the children had laughed themselves happy.
"I did n't let on that I saw you scoot under the bed when the
Doctor came," Elsie Meyer whispered to Polly, at the first
chance. "Aimee saw you, an' Brida saw you, an' Francesca saw
you; but we did n't say nothin' when Miss Lucy an' the Doctor was
wonderin' where you could be. What made you go that way?"
"Come, Polly, say good-night," called the nurse.
And with a soft, "I'll tell you sometime, Elsie," she obeyed.
The next morning Polly went about the little helpful tasks that
she had, one after another, taken upon herself, performing each
with even more than her usual care, feeling a strange ache in her
heart at the thought of its being the last time.
It was shortly after ten o'clock that Dr. Dudley appeared at the
door.
"Polly!" he called.
She ran to him, but her answering smile was pathetic, for her lip
quivered, as she said, "I'll be ready in a minute."
"You are ready now," he returned, and taking her hand in his led
her out into the hall.
"I want you for a little while," was all he said, as they went
downstairs together.
Poly was a bit surprised when she found that their destination was
the great room where the "Board" was in session, but she could
not be afraid with Dr. Dudley; so she smiled to all the gentlemen,
and answered their questions in her soft, sweet voice, and behaved
quite like the little lady that the physician had pictured to
them.
Presently Dr. Dudley left her, while he talked in low tones with
the white-haired man at the head of the long table. When he came
back, he asked:--
"Polly, how should you like to stay here at the hospital all
summer, and help Miss Lucy and me to take care of your little
friends?"
The light that flashed into Polly's brown eyes gave them the gleam
of a sunny brook. She clasped her small hands ecstatically,
crying, "O--o--h! it would be--super-bon-donjical!"
The gentlemen laughed, the tall, white-haired one until his
shoulders shook. Then he rapped on the table, and said something
about "Miss Polly May," to which the little girl did n't pay
much attention, and there was a big chorus of ayes. After that
Polly bade them all good-bye, and went upstairs with Dr. Dudley.
"Children, I have something to tell you," the physician
announced.
Everybody was at once alert. A solemn hush fell on the ward.
"What do you think?" he went on;--"Polly May is a full-fledged
member of the hospital staff!"
Nobody spoke. Nobody even smiled but Miss Lucy. Black eyes and
brown eyes, blue eyes and gray eyes stared uncomprehendingly at
the Doctor.
"You don't quite understand that, do you?" he laughed. "Well, it
means that Polly is n't going home to her aunt. Polly is going to
stay with you!"
Then what squeals and shouts and shrieks of joy from all over the
ward!