The Little Sad Lady
David grew strong steadily, but not so fast that Polly was allowed
to see him as soon as they both wished. When, at last, she went
up for a brief ten minutes, she was brimful of pleasure.
"I want to know about the day you ran after Dr. Dudley for me,"
began David, almost at once; "the time I was so sick. The Doctor
said you had a race, and enjoyed it. I don't see how you could
enjoy running your legs off for me; but it was awfully good of
you."
"Why," cried Polly, "it was n't I that ran--at least, not
much; it was Lone Star."
"Lone Star?" gasped David. "Polly! Do tell me quick!"
"I am telling you," she laughed. "Lone Star, Colonel Gresham's
beautiful horse, did the running--the trotting, I mean--why,
David! What's the matter?"
The boy's eyes had grown big with excitement, and his cheeks were
bright.
"Go on!" he breathed.
"That's about all. I saw I was n't going to make the Doctor
hear, and Colonel Gresham was right out there, and I told him how
--sick you were, and asked him to catch the Doctor. I never
thought of his taking me; but before I knew it I was in the buggy,
and we were flying down the street like mad! Oh, I do wish you
could have seen Lone Star go!"
"Did he know it was I?" whispered David excitedly.
"Lone Star--know?" and Polly's forehead puckered. "Oh," she
brightened, "you mean the Colonel! Why, yes, of course, he did!
That is, I told him--no, I did n't tell him much, though, till
we were coming home. But what difference does it make?"
"Lots!" murmured David disappointedly. "I hoped he knew--oh,
I hoped he knew! Polly!"--and the doll-blue eyes grew mournful
--"He's my Uncle David!"
"Colonel Gresham--your uncle?" Now Polly's eyes widened, too.
"My mother's uncle."
"Oh, is n't that splendid!" beamed Polly. "I should think he'd
have told me!"
David lay quite still for a moment. When he spoke again it was on
an entirely different matter, and soon the ten minutes were up.
"Did you know that David is related to Colonel Gresham?" Polly
asked, as she went downstairs with Dr. Dudley.
"No; how?"
Polly told, adding what she had learned of the family history.
The Doctor shook his head sadly.
"I would n't say anything about it to the children," he
cautioned her. "Such things are better left untalked of. David
is an unusual boy."
"When can he come down in our ward?" she questioned.
"Very soon, if he keeps on improving as fast as he has lately."
As they halted at the foot of the stairs, the Doctor looked at his
watch.
"Tired?" he queried.
"Not a bit," she laughed.
"Then we'll keep on," he smiled, taking her hand again. "There
is a lady I'd like you to see, one of my private patients."
"A young lady?"
"She has white hair."
"Oh, an old lady!"
"She is older than you and I."
"We are not old at all."
"And we never will grow old, will we?" twinkled the Doctor.
"We shall have to, if we live long enough."
"No, we won't; we'll always keep young."
Polly was laughing, as they entered a corridor in an "L" of the
main building, a part of the hospital with which she was not
familiar; but she grew grave instantly, for the Doctor paused at a
door, and she realized that here was the lady they had come to
see.
The introduction over, Polly found herself facing a worn little
woman, with weary gray eyes, who looked more small and frail in
contrast with the great oaken chair in which she was pillowed.
Mrs. Jocelyn, the Doctor had called her, and Polly like the sound
of the name; but she was not yet sure that she should like the
owner of it. The lady did not smile when she said, almost as if
having a visitor bored her:--
"So you are staying here at the hospital, Dr. Dudley tells me.
What do you find to do with yourself all day long?"
Polly had the feeling that the little sad lady would never know
whether she returned an answer or not, for her eyes seemed to be
looking at something for away. Yet the reply was without
hesitation, and primly courteous.
"I help Miss Lucy make the beds and dress the babies, and I dust
and I carry medicine and drinks of water. Then, when there is n't
anything to do to help, I read stories out loud, or tell them, and
we play quiet games." She paused, hunting for facts. "Oh and I
go auto riding with Dr. Dudley!" she broke out brightly. "That's
very nice. A And I've been to ride with Colonel Gresham!" she
smiled. "I like that, Lone Star was so splendid. Only David was
awfully sick, and I was afraid he'd die, and I kept thinking of
him. He said he would take me again some day."
"My dear, I don't quite understand. David Gresham sick? What
David do you mean?" The little lady was waking up.
"Oh, David Collins! He's upstairs in the ward. Colonel Gresham
took me to catch the Doctor."
And Polly related the story of the chase.
"Collins! Why, it was Jack Collins that Eva Gresham married--
the Colonel's niece."
"Yes; David has told me that Colonel Gresham is his mother's
uncle," Polly said simply.
"Well, well! So he went after the Doctor for his grand-nephew--
and did n't know it till it was all over with! What strange
things happen in this world! A pretty good joke on David
Gresham!" And the little sad lady actually smiled. Then she
sighed. "It is too bad! If they'd only make up! But they never
will. David is n't built on the make-up plan--or Eva either, I
fancy. Eva Gresham was a beautiful girl," she rambled on,
talking more to herself than to her interested listener. "She
lived with her uncle from the time her parents died, when she was
a tiny child. The Colonel idolized her."
A bit of a break in the soft voice make a momentary pause in the
musing. Then it went on again. "He had nothing in the world
against Jack Collins, except that he was an artist, and poor. He
would n't have been poor, they say, if he had lived. His pictures
were beginning to sell at good prices."
Suddenly she came back to Polly.
"So the Colonel is going to take you driving again! Well, my
dear, you need n't be afraid he'll forget it; if he said he would,
he will. I declare, you look a good deal as Eva used to when she
was your age. She had just such golden hair and brown eyes."
"David has blue eyes--the bluest I ever saw," observed Polly.
"He probably favors his father," replied Mrs. Jocelyn.
The Doctor's entrance put a stop to the talk, and presently Polly
said good-bye, and went upstairs.
Not many days afterwards she was sent with a message to Mrs.
Jocelyn's nurse, and the little lady caught sight of her at the
door.
"Can't you come in and stay a while?" she called.
"I don't know," Polly hesitated, and she looked questioningly at
the nurse.
"Yes, I wish you would," the young woman nodded. "I shall have
to be away for a quarter of an hour or so, and if you will stay
with Mrs. Jocelyn while I'm gone it will be an accommodation to
me."
Polly seated herself smilingly.
"I wonder if you are as happy as you look," the little white-haired
lady began.
"Oh, I'm always happy!" responded Polly; "that is, here," she
added. "I could n't help being, it's so pleasant, and everybody
is so good to me."
The dull gray eyes rested sadly on her. "Well, be happy while
you can be," their owner said. "When you get to be old you'll
forget what happiness feels like."
"Oh, but I shan't ever grow old!" laughed Polly. "Dr. Dudley and
I are going to stay young!"
The little lady shook her head, and then changed the subject.
"How is David Collins getting on?"
"He is ever so much better," answered Polly; "and is n't it too
bad? He's almost strong enough to come down into our ward, and
there is n't any room for him! I've had to go and sleep in Miss
Lucy's bed, so they could use my cot."
"Is the hospital so full as that?" scowled Mrs. Jocelyn. "Dear
me, how many sick people there are!"
"There are three or four waiting now to come down, ahead of
David," Poly went on. "I don't know what we shall do if he can't
come at all! We've planned so many things. He said he'd tell
part of the bedtime stories--oh, it was going to be lovely!"
"Perhaps there'll be a place for him pretty soon," the little
lady responded. "Dr. Dudley says that you are a story-teller,
too."
"Oh, yes! Some days the children keep me telling them all day
long."
"Suppose you tell me one," invited the little lady.
"Well," returned Polly, a bit doubtfully, and then stopped to
think over her list. "The Cherry-Pudding Story," which usually
insisted on being uppermost, would scarcely do this time, she
thought. It seemed to rollicking for this big, hushed room, with
only one sober-eyed listener. She hastily decided that none of
the cat stories were suitable, or fairy tales--"Oh!" she
suddenly dimpled, "I wonder if you would n't like the story that
David lent me. His aunt wrote it, and sent it to him. I read it
to Miss Lucy and the children. It is about little Prince Benito
and a wonderful flower."
"I shall be pleased to hear it," was the polite reply.
This seemed somewhat doubtful to Polly, used as she was to
enthusiastic responses.
"Won't it tire you?" she hesitated.
"I am always tired, little one. Perhaps the story will rest
me."
"This I'll run right upstairs and get it," beamed Polly. "I
guess I can read it better than I can tell it. You don't mind
staying alone while I'm gone?"
"No, indeed!" was the reply, yet she sighed after Polly had
disappeared. All the brightness of the room seemed to have
vanished.
The little sad woman soon found herself watching for the light
returning footfalls, and she greeted the child with a faint smile.
Polly read as she talked, naturally and with ease, and before she
had finished the first page of the story her listener had settled
herself comfortably among her pillows, a look of interest on her
usually spiritless face.
It was a fanciful tale of a beautiful little prince who, by sowing
seeds of the Wonderful White Flower of Love, transformed his
father's kingdom, a country desolate from war and threatened by
famine and insurrection, into a land of prosperity and peace and
joy.
At the last word, Polly, flushed with the spirit of the story,
looked up expectantly; but her listener's weary eyes seemed to be
studying the pattern of the dainty comfort across her lap. Sadly
Polly gathered together the scattered manuscript sheets, and
waited.
"Thank you, dear," the little lady finally said; but the words
were spoken as with an effort.
"I am afraid I have tired you," mourned Polly.
"No, little one; you have only given me something to think of.
You read unusually well. Perhaps we'll have another story some
day. You don't need to stay, of you have anything else to do. I
shall want nothing until Miss Parkin comes."
Polly felt that she was dismissed, yet she had promised the nurse
to remain. She hesitated a moment, and then said, "Good-bye,"
and went out. She met Miss Parkin in the hall, and explained.
Up in the ward, Miss Lucy was quick to see that Polly was
troubled.
"How did the story go?" she asked.
"I don't know," Polly sighed. "I guess she did n't like it,
'cause she seemed to be thinking about something else, and she
said I need n't stay any longer. I thought it would make her
happier," she lamented, "and all it did was to tire her!"
Polly's eyes were brimming over with tears.
"Never mind, dear," said Miss Lucy comfortingly. "You did your
part, and as well as you could; that's all any of us can do. So
don't worry about it. There's Brida looking this way, as if she
were just longing to talk with you."
"She shan't wait another minute," smiled, and off she skipped,
to make Brida and her followers merry.