Polly Plays the Part of Eva
Summer still lingered, but signs were abroad of her coming
departure. Noons were hot, and nights were chill; bird carols
were infrequent; chrysanthemums were unfurling their buds. The
vines that festooned the windows of the children's convalescent
ward sent an occasional yellow-coated messenger to the lilac
bushes below--a messenger that never came back.
Inside the ward there were even greater changes. Of the old set
of summer patients only a few remained to keep Polly company.
Elsie and Brida, Corinne and Isabel, with Moses and Cornelius, had
received their discharge and had returned to their homes. Leonora
stayed for more of the treatment that was slowly lessening her
lameness and pain. David had so far recovered as to have been
appointed office boy for Dr. Dudley, a position which was,
according to David's version, "all pay and no work." But
somebody was needed to answer telephone calls during the
physician's absence, as well as to note any messages that might
arrive for him, and David's strength was now sufficient for the
service. So the arrangement was proving a very happy one, and was
especially enjoyed by Polly and Leonora.
As their acquaintances drifted away from the hospital, and
strangers drifted in, these three became close friends. The girls
would join David in the office, generally bringing their dolls
with them, when David would be the one to tell or read a story,
for his aunt kept him well supplied with interesting tales.
Sometimes, especially in the early twilight hour, Dr. Dudley was
story-teller; or more often they would talk over together the
happenings of the day, the children unconsciously gathering from
the physician's rich store bits of wisdom that would abide with
them as long as memory lived.
They were watching for him, one night, when the telephone bell
rang.
David sprang to answer the call, and the girls heard him say:--
"No, sir, he is not in.--He went out about an hour ago.--We
expect him every minute now.--Yes, sir, I will."
The boy came back looking a little excited.
"It was Uncle David!" he told them. "He says he is sick, and he
wants Dr. Dudley to come over."
"Oh, dear," scowled Polly; "I hope ther is n't anything bad the
matter with him!"
"It is the first time I ever spoke to him," said David slowly.
"But, of course, he did n't know it was I that was talking."
"There's the Doctor!" cried Leonora, as a runabout stopped at
the entrance.
"Shall I go tell him?" and Polly started. But the lad was already
on his way.
"Let me, please!" he answered. "I want to do that much for Uncle
David."
"I thought it might tire him to go fast," murmured Polly,
apologetically, as she joined Leonora at the window.
"He'll get all out of breath!" worried Leonora. "Just see him
run!"
"He is n't thinking of himself," Polly responded. "It's just
like him! But his heart is pretty strong now, I guess. Though
Doctor told him to be careful."
David returned a little pale, and Polly made him lie down on the
couch.
He did not seem inclined to talk, and the girls waited at the
window, conversing in low tones over their dolls. By and by Dr.
Dudley came up the walk, and Polly ran to open the door for him.
The physician acknowledged the attention with a grave smile, and
then went directly to the telephone, calling for Miss Batterson.
David sat up. The girls listened breathlessly.
Presently they heard arrangements being made for the nurse to go
to the Colonel at once, and they gathered from what was said that
David's great-uncle was ill with typhoid fever, and that the
Doctor had ordered him to bed.
"He has kept up too long," regretted Dr. Dudley, as he hung the
receiver on its hook. "As it is he'll have to go through a course
of fever. He is furious at the prospect, but it can't be helped.
"I'm so sorry," mourned Polly.
Then, seeing that there was no likelihood of a story or even talk
from the Doctor, she proposed, softly to Leonora, that they go
upstairs.
"No, stay here with David, if you wish; you're not in the way.
I'm going back with Miss Batterson."
So they remained, while the physician put some medicines in his
case, and gave David directions regarding a problem caller.
Soon the nurse came in, suit case in hand, and the two went off
together.
"I hope mother won't hear of it right away," the lad mused. "She
thinks so much of Uncle David. She'd want to go and do something
for him, you know, and she could n't, and so she'd worry."
Polly recalled her recent drive through Forest Park, and could
scarcely realize that the big, strong man who had made the time so
pleasant for her was now weak and miserable from disease.
David related incidents of his mother's life with her uncle when
she was a small girl, one leading to another, until, suddenly, Dr.
Dudley opened the door.
"What!" he exclaimed. "My girlies not abed yet! Why, it is
nearly nine o'clock! Miss Lucy will think I have kidnapped you."
They hurried away, with laughing good-nights, after being assured
by the Doctor that probably Colonel Gresham would "come out all
right."
David slept downstairs now, in a tiny room adjoining the
physician's, and his last thought that night was of the
strangeness of it all--Uncle David's hurrying to catch Dr.
Dudley for him, and his being the first to notify the Doctor of
his uncle's illness, while they had not even a bowing acquaintance
with each other!
For a few days there was no alarming change in colonel Gresham's
condition. Then he grew worse. He became delirious, and remained
so, recognizing no one. The anxiety felt in Dr. Dudley's office
extended upstairs to the little people of the convalescent ward,
for since the Colonel's birthday gift they had taken great
interest in the master of the famous trotter. Every morning they
were eager for the latest news from the second house away where
their friend lay so ill.
The twentieth of September was hot and oppressive. Early in the
evening thunder clouds heaped the western sky, and occasional
flashes of lightning portended a shower.
After the children were established for the night, Miss Lucy sat
long by the open window watching the electrical display. The
clouds rose slowly, lingering beyond the western hills with no
wind to aid their progress. Finally she partly undressed, and
throwing on a kimono settled herself comfortably upon her cot, to
await the uncertain storm, ready to shut the windows in case of
driving rain. By and by fitful breezes fluttered through the
room, the low rumbling of thunder was heard, and presently a soft
patter of drops on the leaves. The lightning grew brilliant. The
nurse dreamed and waked by turns. At length she was aroused by
steps along the corridor. They sounded like Dr. Dudley's. S She
was at the door as the physician's knuckle touched it. In
response to his voice she stepped outside, that they might not
disturb the sleepers.
"I want to take Polly over to Colonel Gresham's," the Doctor
explained. "He keeps on calling for 'Eva,' and nothing will quite
him. He is on the verge of collapse."
"Did n't Mrs. Collins come?"
"Yes; but he did n't know her. It broke her all up. I think now
that he has gone back to the time when she was a little girl, and
possibly has confounded her with Polly. At any rate, I'm going to
try the experiment of taking Polly over. It can do no harm, and
may do some good."
The hall suddenly burst into light, and there was a simultaneous
roar of thunder.
"We're going to have a shower," observed the Doctor.
"I should think it was already here," returned Miss Lucy. "Had
n't you better wait till it passes, before taking Polly out?"
"Oh, no! Wrap her up well, and I'll carry her. It is only a few
stops; she won't get wet."
Polly was a quaint little figure in the long mackintosh, and it
tripped her feet once or twice, until the doctor drew it from her
and threw it across his arm.
The thunder had been lighter for some minutes; but as they halted
at the entrance before going out a tremendous crash jarred the
building.
"Not afraid, Thistledown?" smiled Dr. Dudley, as he wrapped her
again in the long cloak.
"I don't like it," she confessed; "but I shan't mind with you,"
putting her arms around his neck.
The rain was pouring as they left the piazza, and before they were
off the grounds big stones of hail were pelting their umbrella.
The Doctor hurried along, the lightning glaring about them and the
air filled with thunder.
Colonel Gresham's house was nearly reached, when a sudden gust
turned the umbrella, and almost at once came a blaze of light and
a terrific crash--a great oak across the street had been split
from top to root!
With a gasp of terror Polly clung to the Doctor's neck, and he
sped up the walk on a quick run.
"There!" he exclaimed, setting her down inside the door, "You're
safe and sound! But next time we'll take Miss Lucy's advice, and
not run any such risks."
"It was awful, was n't it?" breathed Polly.
"A little too close for comfort," he smiled, taking her wet coat
and spreading it over a chair.
At the foot of the stairs he halted for a few instructions.
"Humor the Colonel in every way possible," he told Polly. "If he
names you 'Eva," let him think he is right, and call him 'Uncle
David.'"
"I'm afraid I shall make a mistake," replied Polly.
"You won't," he assured her. "Just imagine you are his little
niece, doing everything to please him--that is all."
Miss Batterson smiled down on Polly, as she entered the sick-room,
and spoke in a low voice to the physician.
Colonel Gresham had been muttering indistinctly, and now broke
into his persistent call:--
"Eva! Eva! Where's Eva?"
Dr. Dudley gave Polly a gentle push towards the bed.
"Here I am, Uncle David!" she answered, standing where the light
slanted across her yellow curls.
The sick man started up, and then dropped back on his pillow.
"Oh, you've come!" he cried, with a breath of relief, "Why did
you stay away--so--long?"
"I did n't know you wanted me till now, Uncle David," replied
the soft voice.
"Come nearer, child! Let me feel you little hand! I dreamed--I
dreamed--you were gone--forever!"
"He lay quiet for a moment, her cool fingers in his hot,
trembling palm. Then he startled her bu the sudden cry:--
"That water! It's dripping, dripping right on my head! Eva, put
up your hand, and catch it!"
Standing beside his pillow, Polly held her hand high.
"I'll catch it all, Uncle David," she assured him. "You shan't
feel another drop!"
"That's a good girl! You always are a good girl, Eva! Seems as
--if--"
The voice trailed off into confused mutterings, and with trembling
fingers he began picking at the sheet and working it into tiny
rolls.
Very gently Polly took one of the restless hands in both her own,
and smoothed it tenderly.
This had a quieting effect, and he lay still for so long that Dr.
Dudley drew Polly softly away, letting her rest on his knee, her
head against his shoulder.
But in a moment the old call burst out:--
"Eva! Eva! Where are you, Eva?"
Her prompt assurance, "I'm right here, Uncle David!" hushed him
at once. Presently, however, he began again.
"Eva! Eva! You love your old uncle, don't you, Eva? Just a--
little--bit?"
"More than a little bit! I love you dearly, Uncle David!"
"Don't go away any more! Promise, Eva! Promise me!"
"I'll stay just as long as you want me Uncle David. Can't you go
to sleep? Remember, I'll be right here all the time!"
Reassured by this, he closed his eyes, and was quiet for a while;
yet only to rouse again and repeat the same old cry.
The thunder was now only an occasional rumble in the distance, and
the lightning had faded to a glimmer; but the rain still kept on,
and as the nurse raised another window the ceaseless patter of the
drops seemed to disturb the sick man, for he began his complaint
of the dripping water upon his head.
Polly pacified him, as before, and once more he drowsed.
The little girl slept, to, in the Doctor's arms, until, towards
morning the Colonel was resting so calmly that they returned to
the hospital.
Miss Lucy clasped Polly with almost a sob.
"If you ever go away again in such a storm," she declared, "I
shall go, too! I saw the lightning come down--and--" her
voice broke.
"And we were not harmed in the least," finished the Doctor
cheerily. "But next time I promise to act upon your higher
wisdom, and not venture among such thunderbolts. Now, hustle into
bed, both of you, and don't dare to wake up till breakfast time!"
The convalescent ward slept late; the nurse and Polly strictly
obeyed orders. Nobody cared, however, and unusual gayety
prevailed at the tardy breakfast, to match the bright September
morning and the good news of Colonel Gresham. For word had come
up from Dr. Dudley that the Colonel was going to get well.
Of course the children eagerly heard the story of Polly's midnight
trip in the physician's arms through the fearful storm. It had to
be told over and over again, and the more daring ones wished they
had been awake to see it all.
The details of what had taken place in the sick-room Polly wisely
withheld; but the girls and boys were undoubtedly more interested
in the account of the lightning's striking the familiar big oak
tree than they would have been in the more important part of that
night's strange story.
It was not many weeks afterward that Dr. Dudley brought Polly a
message.
"The Colonel says he feels slighted because you don't come to see
him, and I promised to send you over."
"OH, I shall have to go!" cried Polly. "I'll run right off and
change my dress."
Colonel Gresham was in a great chair by the window, and begged his
small guest pardon for not rising to greet her.
"I'm not quite firm on my legs yet," he laughed, "and I must n't
topple over, as Miss Batterson has left me for a whole hour."
"Oh, then I'll stay and wait on you!" beamed Polly. "And if you
get tired hearing me talk, you can go to sleep."
But the Colonel seemed very wide awake, and after a gay chat he
began:--
"Dr. Dudley has been telling me about bringing you over here in
that thunderstorm, and how you quieted me when nobody else
could."
"Yes," replied Polly innocently, "You thought I was your little
niece, Eva, and--"
"What?" broke in her listener, amazement in his tone.
"Oh, I s'posed he 'd told you!" cried Polly, in dismay. "I ought
not to have--"
"Yes, you ought!" he interrupted. "What did I say?"
Polly hesitated. She was not at all sure that Dr. Dudley would
wish her to disclose the wanderings of the Colonel's mind, since
he had not done so himself. But there seemed no other way, so she
replied simply:--
"Oh, you did n't say much! Only you kept calling for Eva, and so
I pretended I was she, and I called you Uncle David. And you
heard the rain, and thought it was dripping on your head, and you
wanted me to hold my hand up to catch it. That was about all."
Polly cast furtive glances at the Colonel. She could make nothing
of his face, beyond that it was very grave. She wondered if he
were displeased with her.
After a time he spoke.
"You have done me a kindness that can never be repaid. Such
debts cannot be balanced with money. So we won't talk about pay.
But I should like to do something for you--give you a sort of
remembrance. I don't know what would make you happiest; but you
may chose, 'to the half of my kingdom'--anything but Lone Star.
I'm afraid I should hate to give up Lone Star!"
Polly laughed, and the Colonel laughed too, which put the talk on
a cheery footing, and she assured him that she should n't have
chosen Lone Star anyway, because she did n't know how to take care
of a horse, and had n't any place to keep him in.
Then her face grew suddenly serious, and she sat gazing at the
pattern of the rug so long that Colonel Gresham smiled to himself.
"Is it too much of a problem?" he finally asked. "Can't you
think of anything within my power that would give you a little
happiness?"
"Oh, yes!" Polly answered quickly; "but I'm afraid--" she
stopped.
"Afraid of what?" he questioned.
"Afraid it is too much to ask," she replied softly, lifting her
thoughtful eyes to his.
"No, it is n't! Anything that will add to your happiness--"
"Oh, this would make me very happy!"
"Out with it then! 'To the half of my kingdom,' remember!"
"And you won't be offended?"
"I give you my word," he smiled.
"Well," she began slowly, "I should like best of all to have you
--oh, I wish you would forgive David's mother, and love her
again! She loves you so much!"
For several minutes--it seemed an hour to Polly--the marble
clock over the fireplace, with the bronze mother and child sitting
there, tick-tocked its way uninterruptedly. The little girl did
not dare to look up. Her heart beat very fast indeed. It hurt
her to breathe. Had she made Colonel Gresham so angry that he
would never speak to her again? She wondered how long it would be
before she could gain enough courage for just one glance at his
face. The he spoke.
"You have given me a hard task, little Polly! It would be easier
to go through the fever again!" His voice was gentle--very
gentle, but sad.
"Oh, please, please excuse me!" she exclaimed earnestly. "I ought
not to have asked it! I'll take it all back! You said what would
make me happiest--and so--and so--" She put her face down in her
hands. "I did n't mean to hurt you!" she sobbed, "I did n't! I
did n't!"
"Child! Child! This will never do! It is I who am wholly to
blame! You have done nothing to excuse. I shall keep my promise
to you, if you are sure that what you have asked will give you the
greatest happiness."
He waited for her answer--Polly never guessed with what selfish
longing.
Her face burst into radiance.
"Oh, will you!" she exclaimed. "It will make me so happy, happy,
I shan't know what to do!"
Colonel Gresham was very pale, but Polly did not notice. She was
looking through rose-colored glasses.
"Is David still at the hospital?" the Colonel inquired.
"Yes, sir; he stays in Dr. Dudley's office now, to answer the
telephone and attend to things. He's almost well."
"Well enough to walk over here, think?"
"Oh, yes, sir!" Polly beamed.
"Suppose you run and fetch him then. Say to him that I should
like to make his acquaintance."
Polly needed no urging for such a blissful errand, and in her
excitement failed to hear the Doctor's approaching footsteps. At
the threshold she nearly ran into his arms.
"Why such haste, Thistledown? Have you and Colonel Gresham
quarreled?"
"Oh, no! I'm going after David. Do you care if he leaves the
office for just a little while?"
"Certainly not. Tell him from me that he can come."
If the Doctor felt any surprise, neither his voice nor his face
showed it.
It cost Polly a deal of talk to convince David that his uncle had
actually sent for him, and then, after he had said that he would
go, he was afraid that his clothes were not just right for such a
visit.
"Never mind you clothes!" cried Polly. "He'll never know what
you have on."
"Well, I must brush my hair," delayed the boy, dreading the
ordeal before him.
"Oh, you hair's well enough! Don't flat it down! It's so pretty
as it is now--all curly and fluffy!"
So they were finally started, Polly talking so fast that David had
small chance for nervousness or fear.
Dr. Dudley was not in sight when the children entered Colonel
Gresham's room, and Polly made a silent wild guess regarding his
speedy going away. To David's pleasure the Colonel received him
as he would have received any other lad whom Polly had brought for
a call. There was no reference to his mother or to their kinship,
and the boy began at once to feel at ease. He inquired about his
recent injury and his stay at the hospital, and then, by a chance
remark of Polly's, the subject of David's church singing was
brought up.
Conversation had not begun to flag, when Polly spied the Doctor's
auto at the curb. Mrs. Collins was stepping out!
David's sentence broke off square in the middle; but Colonel
Gresham did not appear to notice. Footsteps neared the door, and
the children sat breathless; yet the Colonel still talked on as
quietly as before.
When the door opened, Polly saw his fingers grip the arms of his
chair. His voice faltered off into silence.
Dr. Dudley stepped aside, and David's mother appeared on the
threshold, a little slight, fair-haired woman, her face now pink
with emotion, her eyes big and shining.
The held out both hands; there was a swish of skirts an something
like a sob.
Polly heard, "Eva!"--"Oh, Uncle David!" Then she slipped out
to the Doctor, and he softly shut the door.
They went downstairs hand in hand, and so to the street.
"We'll have a little ride," he proposed, "to let off steam.
There are n't any patients that will hurt by waiting."
The car passed slowly up the pleasant street.
"Thistledown," he said tenderly, "you have accomplished a
blessed work this morning."
"Why," exclaimed Polly, in surprise, "I have n't done a single
thing--only go after David! It's the Colonel that's done it
all! But is n't it splendid of him? Are n't you glad for
David?"
"I am glad for them all. It is what I feared never would come to
pass. Colonel Gresham is sure to like David, and it is going to
mean everything for the boy."