Polly of the Hospital Staff | Page 2

lady Dr. Dudley took me to see. It's a
'Cherry-Pudding Story.'--Oh, you just wait till I put my coat and hat
away, and change my dress!" Polly danced off, the young nurse
following with a soft sigh. What should she do without this little
sunshine-maker!
The ward was wide awake when Polly returned. The few that were far
enough along to be up and dressed had left their cots, and were grouped
around Elsie Meyer's bed, each solicitous for the closest seat to the
story-teller.
"Everybody ready?" questioned Polly, settling herself comfortable in
the little rocker. Then she popped up. "You need this chair, Leonora,
more than I do;" and before the lame girl had time to protest the
exchange had been made.

"Polly, talk loud, so I can hear!" piped up a shrill voice in the corner of
the ward.
"Sure I will, Linus," was the cherry response. "You must n't miss a
word of the 'Cherry-Pudding story.'"
"Once upon a time," she began, in the beautiful old way that all fanciful
stories should begin; and not the breath of a rustle broke the sound of
her gentle voice, while she narrated the fortunes of the young king who
loved stories so much that he decided to wed only the girl that would
write him a fresh one every day.
As the little people followed the outcome of the royal edict, their
interest grew intense, for Polly was a real story-teller, sweeping her
listeners along with the narrative until all else was forgotten.
When after long despairing days, young King Cerise found his future
queen in the very last girl, one who lived her stories instead of writing
them, and was as charming and good as she was clever, the small folks
became radiantly glad, and the tale drew to a happy end with the king
and queen living beautiful stories and cherry puddings in every home
all over the land.
Nobody spoke as Polly stopped. Then little Linus, away over in the
corner, piped up:--
"I wasn't some cherry pudding!"
Than made them laugh, and set the tongues going.
"Aw, ye'll have ter wait till ye git home!" returned Cornelius
O'Shaughnessy.
"Why will he? Why can't we all have some, Miss Lucy?"
The rest fairly held their breath at Elsie Meyer's boldness.
The nurse laughed. "Perhaps," she began slowly,--"mind, I don't say for
sure, but only perhaps,--if you'll all live a brave, patient, cheerful story,

with never a bit of a whine in it, from now until to-morrow noon,--well,
who knows what may happen!"
"A cherry pudding may!" cried the irrepressible Elsie. "Oh, Miss Lucy,
I won't whine or cry, no matter how bad you hurt my hip when you
dress it--not the teentiest bit! See if I do!"
"Will Polly make up our stories for us?" queried Leonora Hewitt.
"Why, Miss Lucy has made one for all of us," laughed Polly. "We are
to be brave and patient and not make a fuss about anything, and help
everybody else to be happy--is n't that what you meant, Miss Lucy?"
"Oh," replied the little lame girl, "guess that'll be a hard kind!"
"Beautiful stories are not often easy to live," smiled the young nurse;
"but let's see which of us can live the best one."
"Polly will!" cried Maggie O'Donnell and Otto Kriloff together.

Chapter II
The Election of Polly
The convalescent ward was finishing its noonday feast when Miss
Hortensia Price appeared. Miss Hortensia Price was straight and tall,
with somber black eyes and thin, serious lips. Many of the children
were greatly in awe of the dignified nurse; but Elsie Meyer was bold
enough to announce:--
"We're livin' a cherry-pudding story!" And she beamed up from her
ruby-colored plate.
"What?" scowled the visitor.
The tone was puzzled rather tan harsh, yet Elsie shrank back in sudden
abashment.

"Polly told us a story yesterday," explained Miss Lucy, the pink
deepening on her delicate cheeks, "and it made the children want some
cherry pudding for dinner. It is not rich," she added apologetically.
The elder nurse responded only with a courteous "Oh!" and then
remarked, "What I came down to say is this: I shall send you three
cases from my ward at half-past two o'clock this afternoon."
"All right," was the cordial answer. "We shall be glad to welcome them
to our little family."
"High Price is awful solemn to-day," whispered Maggie O'Donnell to
Ethel Jones, as the door shut.
"High Price?" repeated Ethel, in a perplexed voice.
"Sh!" breathed the other. "She's 'High Price,' and Miss Lucy's 'Low
Price,' 'cause she's so high and mighty and tall and everything, and
Miss Lucy's kind o' short and little and so darling, and they ain't any
relation either. I'm glad they ain't," she added decidedly. "I would n't
have Miss