Polly of the Hospital Staff | Page 9

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