Dudley.

"Children, I have something to tell you," the physician
announced.

Everybody was at once alert. A solemn hush fell on the ward.

"What do you think?" he went on;--"Polly May is a full-fledged
member of the hospital staff!"

Nobody spoke. Nobody even smiled but Miss Lucy. Black eyes and
brown eyes, blue eyes and gray eyes stared uncomprehendingly at
the Doctor.

"You don't quite understand that, do you?" he laughed. "Well, it
means that Polly is n't going home to her aunt. Polly is going to
stay with you!"

Then what squeals and shouts and shrieks of joy from all over the
ward!

Chapter III

Popover

For a week the convalescent ward laughed and sang and almost
forgot that it was part of the big House of Suffering. Polly
herself beamed on everybody, and all the hospital people seemed to
agree that very good fortune had come to her, and to be glad in
it.

Then there came a hot day which tried the patience of the small
invalids. Polly flitted from cot to cot with her little
fluttering fan and her cooling drinks. The afternoon breeze had
not yet arrived when Brida MacCarthy begged for a story.

"It will have to be and old one," was the smiling response, for
Polly's supply of cat tales--the kind which the little Irish
girl invariably wanted--was limited.

"I don't care what 't is," whined Brida,--"anything 'bout a
kitty. Oh, don't I wisht I had me own darlin' Popover right here
in me arms!--Why don't yer begin?" urged the fretful voice,
for Polly sat gazing at the polished floor.

A kindly, fascinating scheme was taking shape in the story-teller's
brain.

"Oh, Brida," she cried, in suppressed eagerness, lowering her
voice to a whisper that should not reach Miss Lucy at the other
end of the ward, "I've thought of the loveliest thing! Your home
is n't very far from here, is it?"

"A good ways--why?" and Brida's little pale, freckled face
showed only mild interest.

"But where do you live--when you're home?" Polly insisted.

"'T 739 Liberty Street is right down by Union! I can find that
easy enough! Say, don't you s'pose your mother 'd let me take
Popover and bring her up here? You know Miss Lucy wants me to go
out to walk every day now."

"Oh, Polly!" the pale face grew pink with joy. "Sure, me mother
'd let her come! Oh, Polly, if you would!"

"I will! And I won't say a word to Miss Lucy about it till
Popover is here! It's her birthday to-day, and it'll be such a
beau