ly was down beside him, moaning:--

"Oh, he's dead! he's dead!"

But in a moment, to her relief, his eyes opened, and he murmured,
"Polly!"

A physician, driving up to the hospital entrance, took the boy in his
arms, and carried him inside.

The office was empty, but presently Dr. Dudley returned to find a
patient on his couch, and Polly acting as nurse.

"Daddy's gone away," the lad explained, "and he sent word to have me
come right up here and see you. I've got a letter"--fumbling for the
inner pocket of his coat. Finally, with Polly's help, he brought forth
a closely sealed envelope directed to Dr. Dudley.

The physician laid it aside until his patient could be made more
comfortable, and at once administered a light restorative.

Chris had not been well for a good while, he admitted, and had been
separated from "daddy" much of the time since leaving Fair Harbor. In
the brief little note that had come to him, his father had not said
where he was going, but as business would be likely to keep him away
for some months he directed him to come to Dr. Dudley and deliver the
letter in person.

"Yes, we will have him up in the convalescent ward," the physician
replied, in response to Polly's question, and he stepped to the
telephone, to order a bed prepared for him at once.

Polly saw a shadow of anxiety on the pale little face, and began to
reassure him.

"It is lovely up there, and you'll get well right away and have such
good times. I'm over here every day, sometimes two or three times a
day--I shall be now to see you."

And so the lonely heart was comforted.

The day was full of work for Dr. Dudley, and Mr. Morrow's letter
stayed unopened in his pocket until his evening rounds had been made.
In his first leisure moment, he cut the envelope and skimmed the
closely written pages. He read them twice before he laid them down.
Then, leaning back in his chair, he pondered the strange situation.
Finally he took up the letter and read it through again. It bore
neither date nor address nor signature, and began abruptly.

DEAR DOCTOR,--

Here I am!--up for two years, and God only knows what will
become of my boy! He is, as you know, an abnormally
sensitive child, who will grieve for "daddy" to the breaking
of his heart, unless you open your heart and home and take
him in. You were good to him once, and he loves you and your
Polly. I am sure he would be happy with you. Will you