As she took the glass form Miss Price’s hand, and started away, she heard the physician say, “Can I have Polly for a few minutes?”

“Certainly, Dr. Dudley,” was the reply; and Polly returned wondering what was wanted of her.

“There is a boy upstairs who is getting discouraged,” the Doctor began, as they went through the hall, and in hand, “and I think, perhaps, you can cheer him up a little.”

“Is he a big boy or a little boy?” asked Polly anxiously.

“I should say, about six months bigger than you,” the Doctor laughed.  “He Is n’t anybody you will be afraid of, Thistledown; but he 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.”