Polly of the Hospital Staff | Page 5

destination was the
great room where the "Board" was in session, but she could not be
afraid with Dr. Dudley; so she smiled to all the gentlemen, and
answered their questions in her soft, sweet voice, and behaved quite
like the little lady that the physician had pictured to them.
Presently Dr. Dudley left her, while he talked in low tones with the
white-haired man at the head of the long table. When he came back, he
asked:--
"Polly, how should you like to stay here at the hospital all summer, and
help Miss Lucy and me to take care of your little friends?"
The light that flashed into Polly's brown eyes gave them the gleam of a
sunny brook. She clasped her small hands ecstatically, crying, "O--o--h!
it would be--super-bon-donjical!"

The gentlemen laughed, the tall, white-haired one until his shoulders
shook. Then he rapped on the table, and said something about "Miss
Polly May," to which the little girl did n't pay much attention, and there
was a big chorus of ayes. After that Polly bade them all good-bye, and
went upstairs with Dr. Dudley.
"Children, I have something to tell you," the physician announced.
Everybody was at once alert. A solemn hush fell on the ward.
"What do you think?" he went on;--"Polly May is a full-fledged
member of the hospital staff!"
Nobody spoke. Nobody even smiled but Miss Lucy. Black eyes and
brown eyes, blue eyes and gray eyes stared uncomprehendingly at the
Doctor.
"You don't quite understand that, do you?" he laughed. "Well, it means
that Polly is n't going home to her aunt. Polly is going to stay with
you!"
Then what squeals and shouts and shrieks of joy from all over the
ward!

Chapter III
Popover
For a week the convalescent ward laughed and sang and almost forgot
that it was part of the big House of Suffering. Polly herself beamed on
everybody, and all the hospital people seemed to agree that very good
fortune had come to her, and to be glad in it.
Then there came a hot day which tried the patience of the small invalids.
Polly flitted from cot to cot with her little fluttering fan and her cooling
drinks. The afternoon breeze had not yet arrived when Brida
MacCarthy begged for a story.

"It will have to be and old one," was the smiling response, for Polly's
supply of cat tales--the kind which the little Irish girl invariably
wanted--was limited.
"I don't care what 't is," whined Brida,--"anything 'bout a kitty. Oh,
don't I wisht I had me own darlin' Popover right here in me arms!--Why
don't yer begin?" urged the fretful voice, for Polly sat gazing at the
polished floor.
A kindly, fascinating scheme was taking shape in the story-teller's
brain.
"Oh, Brida," she cried, in suppressed eagerness, lowering her voice to a
whisper that should not reach Miss Lucy at the other end of the ward,
"I've thought of the loveliest thing! Your home is n't very far from here,
is it?"
"A good ways--why?" and Brida's little pale, freckled face showed only
mild interest.
"But where do you live--when you're home?" Polly insisted.
"'T 739 Liberty Street is right down by Union! I can find that easy
enough! Say, don't you s'pose your mother 'd let me take Popover and
bring her up here? You know Miss Lucy wants me to go out to walk
every day now."
"Oh, Polly!" the pale face grew pink with joy. "Sure, me mother 'd let
her come! Oh, Polly, if you would!"
"I will! And I won't say a word to Miss Lucy about it till Popover is
here! It's her birthday to-day, and it'll be such a beautiful surprise! I've
been wishing and wishing we had something to give her."
"Oh, not me darlin' kitty!" returned Brida, in sudden dismay.
"No, no!" laughed Polly reassuringly. "I only meant the surprise.
Popover can amuse the whole ward, and won't Miss Lucy be pleased!"

"It'll be splendid!" beamed Brida. "How'd yer ever think of it?"
"I don't know; but I'm glad I did," Polly went on happily. "And perhaps
we can keep her a week or so, if we'll let her have a little of our
milk--just you and I. You would n't mind, would you?"
"Sure, I'll let her have all she can drink!" declared Brida.
"I guess I'd better go now," said Polly. "What is the number 7----"
"It's 739 Liberty Street," repeated Brida; "an old brown house next to
the corner."
Miss Lucy thought it was rather too warm for a walk, especially as
Polly was not very strong yet; but the little girl urged it with such
sparkling eyes that she finally let her go, bidding her keep on the shady
side of the street and not to