Price nodded and smiled, and Polly tip-toed towards the door,
beckoning her to follow.

Outside, in the corridor, the nurse heard of the mischievous act
of her little patient.

"I did n't think he would do that!" sighed Miss Price, and she
shook her head gravely. "You are right to tell me at once," she
went on; "but I will not let Burton know that I learned of it
through you. Thank you for coming down. You may like to hear,"
she added, as Polly was starting away, "that I had good news from
Turkey this morning. MY sister is better; they think she is going
to get well."

"Oh, I'm so glad!" beamed Polly. Then impulsively, she put up
her arms, and the next minute they were around the neck of Miss
Hortensia Price.

This time she felt sure that the stately nurse did like kisses,
else why should she return them so cordially, and presently Polly
was skipping upstairs, full of gladness that her service had been
a success.

That night, in the hour before bedtime, David was entertainer.
Polly had promised the children delightful stories from him, and
now he made good her word. He chose for his recital something of
his aunt's that Polly had never heard, the true account of how
some little trickey Southern boys obtained a pet goat. David had
shown his wisdom in making his first selection a story that would
please the crowd. The children laughed and laughed over it, and
begged for another. The second was as unlike the first as
possible. It was about a little princess who was carried into
captivity by some rough people, and who won the hearts of
everybody, even those of her captors, by her gentleness and love,
and who finally, through her brave unselfishness, found her way to
freedom and happiness.

"I'd love to be like that Princess Yvonne," sighed Polly.

It was in David's heart to say, "You are more nearly like her
than any girl I ever saw," but the words were not spoken. He
only smiled across to Miss Lucy, who sent him a smile of
comprehension in return. The two had quickly learned to
understand each other without words.

"It is so hard always to love everybody," Polly went on. She was
thinking of Aunt Jane. "Do you love everybody, Miss Lucy,--every
single body?"

The nurse laughed softly. "I'm afraid I sometimes find it a
difficult task," she admitted; "but even when we dislike people,
or do not exactly love them, we can wish them well, and be ready
to do them kindness whenever it is possible. And we