David
Dr. Dudley had been the rounds of the convalescent ward, to see
how his patients were progressing. Now he had paused at the small
table by the window, where Polly was waiting to carry some
medicine to Linus Hardy.
As she took the glass form Miss Price's hand, and started away,
she heard the physician say, "Can I have Polly for a few
minutes?"
"Certainly, Dr. Dudley," was the reply; and Polly returned
wondering what was wanted of her.
"There is a boy upstairs who is getting discouraged," the Doctor
began, as they went through the hall, and in hand, "and I think,
perhaps, you can cheer him up a little."
"Is he a big boy or a little boy?" asked Polly anxiously.
"I should say, about six months bigger than you," the Doctor
laughed. "He Is n't anybody you will be afraid of, Thistledown;
but he is a very nice boy. His mother is just recovering from a
sever illness, so she has n't been able to come to see him yet,
and he feels pretty lonely."
"I wish he were down in our ward," returned Polly,--"that
is," she amended, "if Miss Lucy were only there."
"I shall have him transferred as soon as he is well enough," the
Doctor assured her. And then they were at the entrance of the
children's ward.
Away to the farther end of the room Dr. Dudley went, and Polly
followed. Some of the patients looked curiously at her as she
passed, for the news of her recent accession to the staff had
spread through the hospital, and nearly everybody was eager for a
sight of her.
Polly was thinking only of the boy whom she had come to see; and
when, at last, the Doctor stopped and turned towards her, she
glanced shyly at the lad on the pillow.
"David," began Dr. Dudley, "this is Miss Polly May, the chief
story-tell of the convalescent ward. And, Polly, allow me to
present Master David Collins, who had a race a week or two ago,
with a runaway horse, and who was foolish enough to let the horse
beat."
The Doctor's eyes were twinkling, and Polly let go a giggle; so
the boy ventured to laugh. A week little laugh it was; but it
helped to start the acquaintance pleasantly, which was just what
Dr. Dudley wanted.
"You can have exactly ten minutes to do all your talking in,"
was the physician's parting sally; "so you'd better hurry."
Polly's eyes and David's met in smiling appreciation.
"He says such funny things." praised Polly.
Polly did n't quite know how to begin to cheer the lad up. Her
tender heart was stirred to unusual sympathy, as she gazed into
the pitifully drawn little face, with its big doll-blue eyes. She
must surely say something to make David happier--and the
minutes were going fast. After all, it was David that was first
to speak again.
"Do you like stories?" he asked.
"Oh, I just love them!"
"So do I. You must know a great many. The Doctor said you told
them to the children. I wish there was time for you to tell me
one."
"I'm afraid there is n't to-day," responded Polly; "but maybe I
can stay longer when I come again."
"I hope so," returned David politely. "My mother read me a story
the evening before I was hurt. It was about a king and queen that
lived beautiful stories, and I was going to live such a brave,
splendid one every day--and then the horse knocked me down!
Such a lot of miserable stories as I've lived since I came here,
not much like the ones I'd planned! But to-day's will be better,
because you'll be in it," he ended brightly.
Polly's eyes had been growing rounder and rounder with surprise
and delight.
"Oh! Was it a Cherry-Pudding Story?" she asked eagerly.
"Why, have you read it?" and the little white face actually grew
pink. "My aunt wrote it, and sent us a paper that had it in!"
"Why--ee!" cried Polly. "is n't that funny! And we've been
trying to live nice stories, too--all of us, up in the ward!
Miss Lucy said we'd see which could live the best one. A lady
told me the story. And your aunt really made it all up?"
"Yes; she writes lots of stories," smiled David. "Then she sends
them to mamma and me and wen they're printed."
"How splendid!" beamed Polly. "When you get well enough to come
down in our ward, you can tell us some, can't you?"
The boy's face saddened. "I guess I can't ever come," he said.
"Why not?"
"Because I was hurt so badly. I don't think I'm going to get
well."
"Oh, yes, you will!" asserted Polly. "Of course Dr. Dudley will
cure you! Goodness! You ought to have seen how I was all smashed
up! But Dr. Dudley cured me--he can cure anybody!"
"He can?" echoed David, a little doubtfully. "How 'd you get
hurt? Were you run over?"
"Yes, by a building," Polly laughed. "Only it did n't run; it
fell. I was 'way up on the third floor, and all of a sudden it
went--just like that!" Polly's little hands dropped flat in
her lap. "I heard a great noise, and felt myself going, and I
remember I clutched hold of Uncle Gregory. Then I did n't know
another thing till I woke up over in that corner. See that bed
with the dark-haired little girl in it, the third from the end?
That was my cot."
"Was your leg broken?" asked David, in a most interested tone.
"Yes, my leg was broken, and my hip was _discolated_ (Polly
sometimes twisted her long words a little), and my ankle was
hurt, and two ribs, and, oh, lots of things! Doctor says now that
he really did n't think I'd ever walk again--I mean, without
crutches."
"And you're not lame a bit?" David returned incredulously.
"Not a mite, not the least mite!" Polly assured him.
"Then perhaps I shall get well," the boy began brightly.
"Of course you will!" broke in Dr. Dudley's happy voice.
He put his hand on the lad's wrist, and stood for a moment, noting
his pulse.
"It does n't seem to hurt you to have visitors," he smiled; "but
they must n't stay too long. Say good-bye, Polly."
"Will you bring her again tomorrow?" invited David timidly. "And
let her stay long enough to tell me a story?"
"I should n't wonder," the Doctor promised. And they left the
boy smiling as he had not smiled since he had been in the
hospital.
After that, Polly went every day to see David, until, one morning,
Dr. Dudley told her that he was not quite well enough to have a
visitor. She had come to look forward to her quiet talks with the
blue-eyed lad as the happiest portion of the whole day, for Miss
Hortensia Price still stayed in the convalescent ward, and the
Doctor had been too busy to take her out in his automobile. Elsie
and Brida and Aimee and the rest were all good comrades, yet none
of them possessed David's powers of quick comprehension. Often
Polly had to explain things to them; David always kept up with her
thought--there was the difference. And David, notwithstanding
his present proneness to discouragement, was a most winsome boy.
So the first day that she was not allowed to maker her customary
visit seemed a long day indeed, and eagerly she awaited the next
morning. But several days passed before she again saw David.
Then it was but for a very few minutes, and he was so wan and weak
that she went away feeling sorrowful and anxious. Yet Dr. Dudley
told her that she had done his patient good. That was a slight
comfort.
The next day, and the next, the lad was again too ill for company,
and a few sentences which Polly overheard filled her with
foreboding. She was putting fresh sheets on one of the cots--a
task which she had learned to do well--when she caught David's
name.
"His heart is very weak," one of the stairs nurses was saying to
Miss Price. "He can't stand many more such sinking spells. Dr.
Dudley has given orders to be called at once, day or night, if he
should have another."
Here the voice dropped, and Polly could not catch the words; but
she had heard enough. The sheet went on crookedly. Polly did not
know it, her eyes were so blurred with tears. She kept the sorry
news to herself, and all day long the children wondered what made
Polly so sober.
If she could have seen Dr. Dudley she would have asked him about
David; but for several days she caught only passing glimpses of
him, when he was too busy to be questioned. The little girl grew
more and more anxious, but kept hoping that because she heard
nothing David must be better.
It was during the short absence of Miss Price, one afternoon, that
Elsie Meyer complained of the disagreeable liniment on her hip.
"It's just horrid! I can't stand it a minute longer!" she fretted.
"Say, Polly, I wish you'd spray some of that nice-smellin' stuff
around--what do you call it?"
"The resodarizer, I guess you mean," responded Polly, with more
glibness than accuracy.
"Yes, that's it," Elsie returned. "Hurry up and use it, before
High Price gets back!"
"Perhaps I'd better wait and ask her," she hesitated.
"No, don't! Miss Lucy always lets you take it," Elsie urged.
"Yes, I know," doubtfully. Then she went to the shelf in the
dressing-room, where the atomizer box stood.
"There is n't a drop in it," she said, holding the bottle to the
light. "Miss Lucy must have forgotten to fill it after I used it
last time." Then, spying a small phial on the shelf, close to
where the box had been, "Oh I guess she left it for me to fill!"
And, unscrewing the chunky little bottle from the spraying
apparatus, she soon had it half full.
Elsie smiled in blissful anticipation of the refreshing perfume,
but as the spray fell near her she greeted it with a torrent of
cries.
"Ugh, ugh! O-o-h! take it away!"
Then Polly, too, puckered her face in disgust. "Why, I must have
put--"
"What are you doing with that atomizer?" interrupted Miss
Price's voice. "How came kerosene oil in here? Have you been
spraying it around?"
"I did n't know it was kerosene," answered Polly meekly. "I
s'posed it was the resodarizer--"
"Deoderizer, child!"
"Oh, yes, I get it twisted! It's that kind that smells so
nice."
Miss Price gave a little laugh. "Well, this does n't smell
nice."
"I'm sorry," mourned Polly. "I don't see how a kerosene bottle
came up there--oh, I know! Miss Lucy was putting some on her
watch, the other day, and she was called off--I remember! She
must have left it there."
"But the bottle is labeled," Miss Price replied, fetching it
from the table where Polly had set it down. "Can't you read?"
"If course I can!" she answered, a little indignant at the
question. "I guess I was thinking of--something else," she
ended.
"David" had been on her tongue, but she kept the name back.
"Don't you know that you should always have your mind on what you
do? It is a mercy that you did not get hold of anything worse."
"I could n't," Polly protested. "The poisons and all such things
are up in the medicine closet, and that's always locked."
"You have been allowed too much liberty," Miss Price went on.
"hereafter remember that you are not to touch a bottle of any
description. But, then," she added, half to herself, but which
came plainly to Polly's ear, "there is no need of such an order
while I am in charge. I shall see that none are left within
reach."
The child's eyes flashed. This clear implication of the one she
adored set loose her temper, and she burst out passionately:--
"Miss Lucy always does everything just right, and I think it's
mean of you to hint that she does n't!"
Miss \Price looked steadily at Polly, the color wavering on her
cheeks; then she said, with more than her usual gentleness:--
"Polly, I am sorry, but I think I shall have to punish you. You
may go and sit in that wooden chair over there, with your back to
the window. Do not stir or speak until I give you permission."
Polly walked straight to the seat designated, but there was no
meekness in her obedience. She carried her head defiantly, and
her face was hot with anger. To think that "High Price" should
dare to find fault with Miss Lucy! That rankled in her loyal
little heart.