nything.

She and Miss Lucy made speedy work of the dressing. Dr. Dudley
was outside the door waiting for her, and quietly they went
downstairs.

"I'll have to sing pretty soft; shan't I?" she questioned; "or
it will disturb the other folks."

"Yes," the physician agreed. "But the room is rather isolated
anyway, and the end of the wing. There's nobody near that there
's any danger of harming."

"Hullo!" came in a weak little voice, as Polly entered the
doorway. "I told 'em I'd keep still of you'd sing to me; but I
did n't b'lieve you'd come. I thought you'd be too sleepy."

The boy's mother was nervously smoothing his pillow, but at a word
from the physician she retired to a seat beside the nurse.

A small electric light glowed at the other end of the apartment,
and the night wind blew in at the open window, fluttering the
leaves of a magazine that lay near. Polly felt awed by the hush
of seriousness that seemed to fill the room. Although the Doctor
spoke in his usual tone, the voices of the others scarcely rose
above a whisper. She was glad when Dr. Dudley took her upon his
knee. His encircling arm gave her instant cheer.

"Sing 'bout the 'Drummer Boy'!" begged the sick child,
plaintively, and there was something in his tone that gave Polly a
pang of fear. How different from his commands of the morning!

Ver soft was the singing, as if in keeping with the occasion and
the hour, yet every ward was clear.

From "The Drummer Boy" Polly slipped easily into "The Star-Spangled
Banner," "America," "Columbia, the Gem of the Ocean," and "The
Battle Hymn of the Republic." Then came two or three negro melodies
and some songs she had learned at school, at the end of which Dr.
Dudley whispered to her to stop and rest.

While she was singing, the sick boy had lain motionless; but now
he began to nestle, and called fretfully, "Water! Water! Do give
me some water!"

The nurse fetched a glass, but as soon as he discovered that it
was warm, he would not taste it.

"Sing more!" he pleaded.

So again Polly sang, beginning with "My Old Kentucky Home," and
then charming the Doctor with one of his favorites, "'Way down
upon the Swanee Ribber." "Annie Laurie" came next, then "Those
Evening Bells," and other old songs which her grandmother had
taught her.

"I'm afraid you're getting too tired," Dr. Dudley told her; but
she smilingly shook her head, and sang on.

Once or twice the lad drowsed, and she stopped for a