The Ward's Anniversary
The convalescent ward was generally a happy place, for everybody
was getting well, and getting well is pleasant business. Just now
it was at its best. The majority of the children had lived
together long enough to be loyal friends, and there were no
discordant dispositions. In fact, discords knew better than to
push in where Miss Lucy reigned. Her gentle tack had proved quite
sufficient for any disagreeable element that had yet appeared in
the ward, and lately all had been harmony. The nurse would have
told you that this was greatly due to Polly May, and Polly would
have insisted it was entirely Miss Lucy's work; but as long as
happiness was there nobody cared whence it came.
David Collins was a decided acquisition; the ward agreed in that.
"He can tell stories almost as well as Polly," declared Elsie
Meyer to a knot of her chosen intimates.
"Not qui-te," objected loyal little Brida, glancing over her
shoulder to make sure that they were far enough away from the ears
of the boy under discussion.
"I did n't say quite," returned Elsie, in a lover voice, "I said
almost. 'Course, nobody tells 'em so good as Polly--she's
'special!"
"But David is a dandy fine feller!" asserted Cornelius. "He can
play ball, reg'lar baseball! A college feller on a team showed
him how!"
"Wisht I could play ball," sighed Leonora Hewitt, a bit
dejectedly.
"Girls don't play baseball!" laughed Cornelius.
"They do some kinds anyway--I used to!" And again Leonora
sighed. It is hard to be shut out from things when you are only
ten.
"I would n't care, if I were you," comforted Elsie, in a way
that showed her to be an unconscious pupil of her adored Polly.
She threw an arm around the little girl who the Doctor feared
would never walk again on two strong feet. "There's lots of
things better than playing ball."
"What?" demanded Cornelius, with more curiosity than
thoughtfulness.
Elsie flashed him a look that meant, "How can you?" for
Cornelius had been able to throw aside his own helps to walking.
Then she answered triumphantly, "Playing with dolls--for one
thing!"
"Dolls!" echoed Cornelius, laughing "Ho, ho! Dolls!"
"Well, I don't care, they are! Ain't they, Miss Lucy?"
"What is it, Elsie?" smiled the nurse across from her desk. "I
was n't noticing."
"Dolls--ain't dolls more fun that playing ball?"
"That depends," answered Miss Lucy. "Cornelius or Moses would no
doubt enjoy a game of ball better than the prettiest doll that
ever was made; but you and Leonora and Corinne, for instance,
would be unusual little girls if you did n't like dolls best."
Elsie and Cornelius faced each other with good-natured laughter.
"But I hain't got any doll," lamented Leonora.
"Nary a ball!" declared Cornelius, striking his reast
dramatically. "So we're even!"
"My doll's 'most worn out," mourned Elsie. "Guess it will be
quite by the time I get home, with Rosie and Esther bangin' it
round."
"I want my dolly! I want my dolly!" piped up little Isabel.
"Where's my dolly?"
"Oh! May I get her the doll, Miss Lucy?" cried Elsie, running
over to the chest of drawers where the ward's few playthings were
kept.
Isabel trotted after, her face shining with expectation.
Barely waiting for the desired permission, Elsie dived down into the
lower drawer, and, after a brief search among torn picture-books
and odds and ends of broken toy, brought forth a little battered
rubber doll, which had lost most of its coloring and all of its cry.
But Baby Isabel hugged it to her heart, and at once dropped to the
floor, crooning over her new treasure.
While the ward was thus discussing dolls, Mrs. Jocelyn and Polly,
downstairs, in the little lady's room, were conversing on the same
subject.
It was Polly's first visit since the night she had sung to Burton
Leonard, and they had talked of that any many other things.
"It is too bad for you to be shut up in a hospital all this
beautiful summer," lamented Mrs. Jocelyn. "If I were only well,
I'd carry you off home with me this very day, and we'd go driving
out in the country, and have woodsy picnics, and all sorts of
delightful things."
"I went to ride yesterday with Dr. Dudley," said Polly
contentedly.
"Yes, that's all right as far as it goes; but your pleasures are
too serious ones for the most part. You ought to be playing with
dolls--without a care beyond them. By the way, I never have
seen you with a doll yet."
"No, I have n't any," replied Polly sadly.
"But you have them up in the ward, don't you?"
"There's a little old rubber doll that somebody left because it
had n't any squeak--that's all."
"For pity's sake!" exclaimed the little lady. "The idea!--not
a single doll that can be called a doll! I never heard anything
like it! What do yo play with? Or don't you play at all?"
"Oh, yes!" laughed Polly. "We play games, and Dr. Dudley has
given me two story-books, and there are some toy soldiers--but
they're 'most all broken now. Then there's a big book with
pictures pasted in it--that's nice! There was Noah's Ark; but
a little boy threw Noah and nearly all the animals out of the
window, and before we found them the rain spoiled some of them,
and the rest were lost."
"I declare, it's pitiful!" sorrowed the little lady.
"Oh, we have a nice time!" smiled Polly.
"I believe you'd find something to enjoy on a desert, without a
soul within fifty miles!" laughed Mrs. Jocelyn.
"Guess I'd be lonesome!" chuckled Polly. "But I always thought
the sand would be lovely to play in."
"There, I told you so! Oh, you'd have a good time! But, child,
have n't you any doll of your own--at home, I mean?"
"No, not now--I did have"--and pain crept into the sweet
little face. "Mamma gave me a pretty doll the last Christmas--
oh, I loved it so! But after I went to live with Aunt Jane I
helped her 'most all the time I was out of school, and I did n't
have much time to play with Phebe--she was named for mamma.
Phebe was mamma's name. So finally Aunt Jane said that Maude
might just as well have my doll. I felt as if I could n't give
her up, but I had to--" Polly's lip quivered, and she swallowed
hard.
"Poor little girl!" Mrs. Jocelyn put out a hand and gently
stroked the bright curls. "How could anybody be so cruel!"
"I would n't have cared--much, if Maude had loved Phebe; but
she did n't. She'd swing her round by one leg, and pull her hair
when she got mad, or--anything. It seemed as if I could n't
stant it!"
"Bless you! I don't see how you could!" sympathized her
listener.
"Why, I had to!" replied Polly simply. "But one day--I never
told anybody this, even Miss Lucy--one day Aunt Jane took the
children to a circus, and I stayed home all alone. After they'd
been gone about half an hour I went and dug as deep a hole as I
could right in the middle of the clothes-yard--the woman
upstairs was gone, too, so she could n't see me--and I wrapped
Phebe up in a clean piece of paper, after I'd kissed her and bid
her good-bye--and then I buried her! It 'most killed me to do
it; but I could n't see any other way. Do you think it was
dreadfully wicked?"
Polly looked up with wet, appealing eyes, and, to her amazement,
saw that tears were running down the little lady's cheeks.
"Wicked!" Mrs. Jocelyn ejaculated. "If nobody ever did anything
more wicked than that it would be a blessed sort of world! NO,
dearest; I'm glad you were brave enough to do it--as glad as
can be! But what did they say when the came home? Did n't they
miss the doll?"
"Not that night; they were so excited about the circus. They
never said a word till some time the next morning; then Maude
wondered where Phebe was. I was dreadfully afraid they'd ask me
if I knew; but Maude only looked for her a little while--she
did n't love her a bit. Aunt Jane told her she was probably
kicking round somewhere, and it served her right for not taking
better of her. I guess they forgot all about her pretty soon; but
I did n't--I never shall forget Phebe!"
Mrs. Jocelyn put her arm around Polly, and held her close,
murmuring sympathetic words, which were very comforting to the
bereft little mother.
"How did Phebe look?" asked Mrs. Jocelyn, at last. "Do you want
to tell me?"
"Oh, yes! She had light curly hair, just like mine, and such
pretty blue eyes and red cheeks! She was about _so_ tall,"
measuring a foot or more with her hands. "She had on a little
white muslin dress, with blue sprigs on it--the other dresses
Maude spoiled. She was just as sweet as she could be!" Polly's
eyes almost brimmed over, and the lady gently led her thoughts to
other things.
Soon Dr. Dudley came in, and then the little girl said good-bye.
On the stairs she heard her name called and looking back she saw
Miss Hortensia Price, a bunch of sweet peas in her hand.
"I was bringing these to you," the nurse smiled. "How do you do,
my dear? Are you feeling quite well again?"
"Oh, yes, thank you!" cried Polly, her little nose among the
flowers. "Doctor would n't let me get up day before yesterday,
and now I'm so rested I don't feel as if I'd ever get tired."
"I am very glad. I meant to come up to see you sooner, but I did
n't wish to disturb you that first day, and yesterday I was
extremely busy."
"Burton is not worse, is he?" asked Polly quickly.
"Oh, no! his is doing even better than we anticipated. And at
last he has decided to keep still--did Dr. Dudley tell you?"
"Yes," beamed Polly, "and I'm so glad!"
"We all are. He has been a hard child to manage. We have much
to thank you for--I shall never forget what you have done!"
Polly was astonished at this praise that she could do nothing but
blush and murmur a few words of dissent.
"Burton's mother," Miss Price went on, "wishes you would come in
some time and sing her that hymn again, the last one you sang,
'The King of Love my Shepherd is.'"
"Oh," smiled Polly, "I wish she could hear David sing that! He
sings it beautifully! I never heard it till that night, so I did
n't know it very well; but if she could come up into the ward, I'm
sure David would sing it for her."
Miss Price seemed to ignore David altogether, for she only said:--
"Polly May, if you can learn like that, with your sweet voice,--
why, you must have a musical education! I shall speak to Dr.
Dudley about it at once. But I'm keeping you standing here,
child, and you not strong!"
Polly assured her that she was not tired in the least, and thanked
her again for the flowers. Then she ran upstairs, to tell the
astonishing news to Miss Lucy and the ward, and to show her sweet
peas in proof of Miss Hortensia Price's wonderful kindness.
After everybody had had a sniff of the fragrant blossoms, Polly
proposed moving a little table to the side of David's cot, and
placing the flowers on it.
"Because," she argued, "if David had n't sung the hymn that
night, I could n't have and if I had n't, maybe Miss Price would
n't have given me the sweet peas; so I think they belong to David
as much as to me."
The children--all but David, and his protests went for
naught--accepted Polly's reasoning as perfectly logical, and readily
helped carry out her suggestion. Miss Lucy smiled to herself,
while she allowed them to do as they pleased.
"Will they keep till to-morrow, s'pose?" Questioned Elsie
anxiously.
"Of course," answered Polly. "Why?"
"Cause they'll help celebrate," Elsie returned.
"Celebrate what?" queried Polly, wiping a drop of overrunning
water from the glass which Miss Lucy had supplied.
"Why, the war's birthday! Don't you know about it?" And Elsie
looked her astonishment at having heard any new with which Polly
was not already acquainted.
"I don't know what you mean," Polly replied.
Then what a babel of tongues! Each wanted to be first to inform
Polly.
"The ward's five years old to-morrow!"--"Miss Lucy's been tellin'
us!"--"it was started five years ago!"--"There was only three
children in it then!"--"She said we ought to celebrate!"--"A
lady give it to the hospital!"
"We'll every one wear a sweet pea all day!" announced Polly.
"That'll be lovely!" beamed Elsie.
"They'll wilt," objected practical Moses.
"Never mind!" returned Polly. "We can give 'em a drink once in a
while."
So it was agreed. Meantime Miss Lucy, at her table, textbook in
hand, overheard and wished and planned. Downstairs, too, where
Mrs. Jocelyn sat talking with Dr. Dudley, more planning was going
on, and in the physician's own heart a little private scheme was
brewing. Thus the ward's birthday came nearer and more near.
The sweet peas were placed on a broad sill outside the window for
the night, lest they might take it into their frail little heads
to wither before their time. They showed their appreciation of
Miss Lucy's thoughtfulness by being as sweet and bright as
possible, and early in the morning everybody in the ward wore a
decoration.
About ten o'clock Dr. Dudley appeared, and Polly and Elsie hurried
to pin a posy in his buttonhole. Elsie had chosen a pink and
Polly a blue blossom, and one little girl held them in place while
the other pinned them fast, the Doctor sending telegraphic
messages over their heads to Miss Lucy.
"Now, let me see," he began, after he had returned thanks for
his sweets; "think I can squeeze in seven or eight of them?"
nodding to the nurse.
"They're none of them very bulky," she laughed.
"Fell strong enough for an auto ride, Elsie?" he twinkled.
"Me?" gasped the little girl. "You don't mean me, do you?"
"If your name is Elsie Meyer, you're the one," he replied.
"Oh, my! O-h, m-y!" she cried. "Polly! Polly! He's goin' to
take me to ride!" And she whirled Polly round and round in her
excited joy.
"Cornelius and Moses," he counted, "and Elsie and Polly,"--
his eyes had reached the little girl with a crutch, whose pale
face was growing pink and paler by turns,--"and Leonora and
Brida," he went on; "that makes six."
"Oh, me too?" squealed Brida delightedly, clutching her chair
for support in the trying moment.
Leonora said nothing, only gazed at the Doctor as if she feared he
would vanish, together with her promised ride, if she did not keep
close watch.
"There are only two more for whom I dare risk the bumpety-bumps,"
laughed Dr. Dudley. "Corinne, I think you can bear them, and
perhaps we can wedge in Isabel."
"Oh, we can hold her!" volunteered Elsie.
"Sure, we can!" echoed Cornelius.
"No, I want to thit in Polly'th lap," lisped the midget, edging
away from the others, and doing her best to climb to Polly's arms.
Polly clasped the tiny one tight, smiling her promise, to full of
joy in her friends' happiness for any words.
"I'll give you fifteen minutes to prink up in," the Doctor told
them; and away they scampered, Polly halting by David's cot long
enough to wish he "were going too."
The eight were downstairs within the specified time, and they
whirled off in the big motor car, which seated them all
comfortably without crowding anybody. Very demure they were,
passing along the city streets, but in the open country their
delight found vent in shouts and squeals and jubilant laughter.
Dr. Dudley chose a route apart from the traveled highways, leading
through woods and between blossoming fields.
"Could we get out and pick just a few o' those flowers?" Elsie
ventured; and presently they were all over the stone wall, Leonora
with the rest, right down among the goldenrod and asters.
The went home with their arms full of beauty, too overjoyed even
to guess that they had been away nearly two whole hours, and that
it was dinner time.
Leonora was first to discover it--the beautiful copy of the
Sistine Madonna, hanging opposite David's bed. Then dinner had to
wait, while they flocked over to look at Dr. Dudley's gift to the
ward.
"Why, it's just like a story," cried Elsie. "Something keeps
happening all the time."
Miss Lucy smiled mysteriously, which made Polly wonder if there
were more happenings in reserve for the day.
Dinner was barely cleared away when a rap sent Moses to the door.
There stood one of the porters grinning behind a pyramid of white
boxes tied with gay ribbons.
Moses was too astonished for anything but speechlessly to let the
man pass him. The pile was deposited beside the nurse, and Elsie
squealed out:--
"They look 'xac'ly like Christmas!"
"Perhaps the inside will look like Christmas, too," smiled Miss
Lucy. "Let's see what this card says:--'For the young folds of
the Convalescent Ward, in honor of the Ward's fifth birthday. From
Mrs Juliet P. Jocelyn.'
"This box is addressed to Miss Polly May;" and she handed out
the one on top.
Polly received it with an "Oh, thank you!" A sudden tumultuous
hope had sprung in her heart, and she gazed down at the oblong box
with a mingled anticipation and fear. What could it be but--!
Yet what if it should n't be! With trembling fingers she
hurriedly untied the blue ribbon. She hardly dared lift the
cover; but--it was!
"Oh, Phebe!" she cried, with almost a sob, clasping the
beautiful doll to her heart.
It was not Phebe, but so nearly like the cherished one it was not
surprising in that first ecstatic moment Polly should think it was
really her los darling. Golden curls, blue eyes, and a frock of
white muslin with blue sprigs made the resemblance very true. In
her own bliss, Polly for a minute, forgot her surroundings. Then
she became suddenly aware that Elsie was dancing about, shrieking
with delight, holding a doll the counterpart of Polly's own,
except for the color of dress and eyes.
Brida's doll had blue eyes, alike the new Phebe, and Leonora's
brown, like Elsie's.
Miss Lucy could not untie the boxes fast enough now, the children
were so wildly excited. Every girl had a beautiful doll, and
every boy a gift that made him shout in glee or wrapped him in
speechless joy, according to his nature.
"How _did_ she know I'd ruther have 'em than anything in th'
biggest store you ever saw?" cried Cornelius, with a yell of
rapture, throwing off the cover of his box to see a ball, a bat,
and a catcher's mitt. "How did she did she know it?"
The other big boys had similar presents and the younger lads
mechanical toys of various kinds,--Railway and Track, Steamer,
Automobile, Fire Engine, and a real little Flying Machine.
Besides these there were a number of fascinating games and a box
of stone blocks.
In the late afternoon some of the nurses made a brief visit,
bringing their combined gift,--a dozen books and a shelf to
keep them on. Miss Price, who could not leave her patient, sent a
set of crayons and outline picture-books to color. And so one
delight followed another until the children were in a state of the
happiest excitement.
Just before supper time Dr. Dudley came in, full of merriment and
droll stories.
The tea was there on time, a regular "party tea," with a
birthday cake and five small candles. The goodies seemed ready to
be eaten; the little folks were eager to taste; still Miss Lucy
did not give the word. She and the Doctor would turn towards the
door at the slightest sound; then they would go on talking again.
Finally Polly's sharp ears heard footsteps, approaching footsteps.
Dr. Dudley listened, jumped up, and slipped outside the door,
shutting it behind him. The steps drew nearer, there were low
voices and faint laughter. Then something like a small commotion
seemed to be taking place just outside. Elsie's impatience let
loose her tongue.
"Oh, Miss Lucy! What is it? Do tell us! Please do!"
"In a minute there'll be no need of telling," was the smiling
answer.
At the instant a light rap sent Polly and Elsie flying to the
door. Polly was ahead and threw it wide open on a pretty picture,
--little Mrs. Jocelyn seated in a wheel chair, Dr. Dudley and a
porter in the background.
"Oh, o-h!" cried Polly, "how perfectly lovelicious!" And she
stepped aside to let the guest roll herself in.
Miss Lucy came forward with a glad greeting, while the flock of
girls and boys retreated, struck with sudden shyness.
Polly laid hold of Elsie and Leonora. "come!" she whispered.
"Come, and shake hands with her!"
"No, no! I can't!" gasped Leonora, terrified at the thought of
speaking to that beautiful little white-haired lady in the
exquisite gray silk.
"Yes, come!" urged Polly. "She gave us our dolls, and we must
thank her!" Her hand on Leonora's gave the timid girl courage,
and she allowed herself to be led towards the wheel chair.
They were all presented by name, and Mrs. Jocelyn won the girls'
hearts with kisses and kindly words, while the boys, from
Cornelius O'Shaughnessy to little John Fritz, were so charmed by
her interest in their sports that they afterwards voted her "a
dandy one"--their highest praise.
The tea went off, as all party teas ought to go, to the music of
merry laughter; and when the ice cream came on, the children's
glee reached its height--it was in the form of a quaint little
girls and boys!
It was nearly bedtime when the last gift arrived. The parcel was
oblong and flat and heavy.
"I bet it's another picture!" ventured Moses.
Polly fairly shouted when Miss Lucy folded back the wrappings.
There lay a superb photograph, handsomely framed in oak, of Lone
Star and his master. The note accompanied it:--
To the Children's Convalescent Ward:
Dear Ward:--News has just come that you are having a birthday.
I congratulate you on having lived and prospered for five long
years. As I have counted only four birthdays myself, I have
great respect for those that have attained to five.
I cannot let the day pass without sending you a small token of
neighborly affection, and because the hour is late and I have
nothing better in sight I trust you will pardon my seeming
egotism in presenting my own picture.
Wish bushels of joyful wishes for you future, I will sign myself
Your fast friend,
Lone Star