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

Chapter XI

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.