Polly of the Hospital Staff by Emma C. Dowd

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POLLY OF THE HOSPITAL STAFF

by

EMMA C. DOWD

Boston and New York
Houghton Mifflin Company
The Riverside Press Cambridge

1912

To 'The Mother of Polly'

Contents

I. The Cherry-Pudding Story
II. The Election of Polly
III. Popover
IV. David
V. With the Assistance of Lone Star
VI. Elsie's Birthday
VII. The Little Sad Lady
VIII. A Warning From Aunt Jane
IX. A Night of Song
X. The Ward's Anniversary
XI. Polly Plays the part of Eva
XII. The Kidnapping of Polly
XIII. The Return
XIV. Polly's "Anne Sisters"
XV. A Bid for Polly
XVI. A secret
XVII. The Wedding

Illustrations

The Story of the Wonderful White Flower
"Once Upon a Time," she began
Forgetting all but the music she loved
This Document Makes You Legally our own Daughter

From drawings by Irma Deremeaux

POLLY OF THE HOSPITAL STAFF

Chapter I

The Cherry-Pudding Story

The June breeze hurried up from the harbor to the big house on the
hill, and fluttered playfully past the window vines into the
children's convalescent ward. It was a common saying at the
hospital that the tidal breeze always reached the children's ward
first. Sometimes the little people were waiting for it, ready
with their welcome; but to-day there were none to laugh a
greeting. The room was very quiet. The occupants of the little
white cots had slept unusually long, and the few that had awakened
from their afternoon naps were still too drowsy to be astir.
Besides, Polly was not there, and the ward was never the same
without Polly.

As the young nurse in charge passed noiselessly between the rows
of beds, a small hand pulled at her apron.

"Ain't it 'most time for Polly to come?"

"Yes, I think she will be back pretty soon now." Miss Lucy
smiled down into the wistful little face.

"I want Polly to tell me a story," Elsie went on, with a bit of
a whine: "my hip aches so bad."

"Does it feel worse to-day?" asked the nurse sympathetically.

"No; I guess not," answered the little girl, glad of a listener.
"It aches all the time, 'cept when I'm asleep or Polly's tellin'
stories."

"I know," and Miss Lucy's face grew grave. "We shall miss
Polly."

"When's she goin' home?" The blue eyes went suddenly anxious.

"Oh, not until next week!" was the cheerful response. "There'll
be time for plenty of stories before then."

"A-h-h!" wailed little French Aimee, from the opposite cot.
"Pollee go?"

"Why, yes," smiled Miss Lucy, with a quick turn. "Polly is
almost well, and well little girls don't stay at the hospital, you
know. Pretty soon you will go home, too."

The nurse passed on, but Aimee's face remained clouded. Next
week--no Pollee!

Other ears besides Aimee's had overheard the news about Polly.
Maggie O'Donnell and Otto Kriloff stared at each other in dismay.
Why, Polly had been there long before they came! It had never
occurred to them that Polly could leave.

When Miss Lucy reached Maggie's bed, the little girl was softly
crying.

"I--don't--want--Polly to go!" she sobbed.

"Dear me! Dear me!" exclaimed the nurse, "this will never do!"
Then, listening, she whispered, "Hark! Who is that skipping along
the hall?"

At the instant, the door opened, and a little girl, her brown eyes
shining with pleasure, her cheeks pink as the poppies on the front
lawn, and her yellow curls all tossed and tumbled by the wind,
whirled into the ward.

"Oh, Polly!" passed, a breath of joy, from lip to lip.

"I've had a lovelicious time!" she began.

"We went 'way down to Rockmoor!--Did you ever ride in an auto,
Miss Lucy?"

The nurse nodded happily. It was good to have Polly back.

"Seems's if you'd never come!" broke out Elsie Meyer. "I've been
waitin' an' waitin' for a story."

"I'll have my things off in a minute," responded Polly, "and
you'll say my story is worth waiting for."

"A new one?"

"Brand-new!"

"Where'd you get it?"

"A lady told me--a lady Dr. Dudley took me to see. It's a
'Cherry-Pudding Story.'--Oh, you just wait till I put my coat
and hat away, and change my dress!" Polly danced off, the young
nurse following with a soft sigh. What should she do without this
little sunshine-maker!

The ward was wide awake when Polly returned. The few that were
far enough along to be up and dressed had left their cots, and
were grouped around Elsie Meyer's bed, each solicitous for the
closest seat to the story-teller.

"Everybody ready?" questioned Polly, settling herself
comfortable in the little rocker. Then she popped up. "You need
this chair, Leonora, more than I do;" and before the lame girl
had time to protest the exchange had been made.

"Polly, talk loud, so I can hear!" piped up a shrill voice in
the corner of the ward.

"Sure I will, Linus," was the cherry response. "You must n't
miss a word of the 'Cherry-Pudding story.'"

"Once upon a time," she began, in the beautiful old way that all
fanciful stories should begin; and not the breath of a rustle
broke the sound of her gentle voice, while she narrated the
fortunes of the young king who loved stories so much that he
decided to wed only the girl that would write him a fresh one
every day.

As the little people followed the outcome of the royal edict,
their interest grew intense, for Polly was a real story-teller,
sweeping her listeners along with the narrative until all else was
forgotten.

When after long despairing days, young King Cerise found his
future queen in the very last girl, one who lived her stories
instead of writing them, and was as charming and good as she was
clever, the small folks became radiantly glad, and the tale drew
to a happy end with the king and queen living beautiful stories
and cherry puddings in every home all over the land.

Nobody spoke as Polly stopped. Then little Linus, away over in
the corner, piped up:--

"I wasn't some cherry pudding!"

Than made them laugh, and set the tongues going.

"Aw, ye'll have ter wait till ye git home!" returned Cornelius
O'Shaughnessy.

"Why will he? Why can't we all have some, Miss Lucy?"

The rest fairly held their breath at Elsie Meyer's boldness.

The nurse laughed. "Perhaps," she began slowly,--"mind, I
don't say for sure, but only perhaps,--if you'll all live a
brave, patient, cheerful story, with never a bit of a whine in it,
from now until to-morrow noon,--well, who knows what may
happen!"

"A cherry pudding may!" cried the irrepressible Elsie. "Oh, Miss
Lucy, I won't whine or cry, no matter how bad you hurt my hip when
you dress it--not the teentiest bit! See if I do!"

"Will Polly make up our stories for us?" queried Leonora Hewitt.

"Why, Miss Lucy has made one for all of us," laughed Polly. "We
are to be brave and patient and not make a fuss about anything,
and help everybody else to be happy--is n't that what you
meant, Miss Lucy?"

"Oh," replied the little lame girl, "guess that'll be a hard
kind!"

"Beautiful stories are not often easy to live," smiled the young
nurse; "but let's see which of us can live the best one."

"Polly will!" cried Maggie O'Donnell and Otto Kriloff together.

Chapter II

The Election of Polly

The convalescent ward was finishing its noonday feast when Miss
Hortensia Price appeared. Miss Hortensia Price was straight and
tall, with somber black eyes and thin, serious lips. Many of the
children were greatly in awe of the dignified nurse; but Elsie
Meyer was bold enough to announce:--

"We're livin' a cherry-pudding story!" And she beamed up from
her ruby-colored plate.

"What?" scowled the visitor.

The tone was puzzled rather tan harsh, yet Elsie shrank back in
sudden abashment.

"Polly told us a story yesterday," explained Miss Lucy, the pink
deepening on her delicate cheeks, "and it made the children want
some cherry pudding for dinner. It is not rich," she added
apologetically.

The elder nurse responded only with a courteous "Oh!" and then
remarked, "What I came down to say is this: I shall send you
three cases from my ward at half-past two o'clock this afternoon."

"All right," was the cordial answer. "We shall be glad to
welcome them to our little family."

"High Price is awful solemn to-day," whispered Maggie O'Donnell
to Ethel Jones, as the door shut.

"High Price?" repeated Ethel, in a perplexed voice.

"Sh!" breathed the other. "She's 'High Price,' and Miss Lucy's
'Low Price,' 'cause she's so high and mighty and tall and
everything, and Miss Lucy's kind o' short and little and so
darling, and they ain't any relation either. I'm glad they
ain't," she added decidedly. "I would n't have Miss Lucy related
to her for anything!"

"Oh, no!" returned Ethel, comprehendingly, as she scraped her
plate for a last morsel of pudding.

The three "cases," which appeared in the convalescent ward
promptly at the hour named, proved to be two girls and a boy,--
Brida MacCarthy, Isabel Smith, and Moses Cohn. Polly did her
share in routing the evident fears of the small strangers, their
wide, anxious eye showing that they dreaded what might lie ahead
of them in these unknown quarters.

The wonderful giant story, which ended merrily,--as all of
Polly's stories did end,--made Moses her valiant follower as
long as he remained in the ward; the tender little slumber song,
which Polly's mother had taught her, put the tiny Isabel to sleep;
and the verses about the "Kit-Cat Luncheon" completely won the
heart of Irish Brida.

"I got a kitty, too!" she confided. "Her name's Popover, 'cause
when the kitties was all little, an' runnin' round, an' playin',
she'd pop right over on her back, jus' as funny! She's all black
concept[sic] a little spot o' white--oh, me kitty is the
prettiest kitty in town!"

"How shall I ever get along without her!" sighed the young
nurse, as she watched Polly flitting about like a sprite,
comforting restless little patients, hushing, with her ready tact,
quarrelsome tongues, and winning every heart by her gentle, loving
ways. Oh, the ward would be lonely indeed without Polly May!
None realized this more than Miss Lucy, unless it were Dr. Dudley,
the cherry house physician, whom all the children adored.

As the day set for Polly's going came near and nearer, the
mourning of the small convalescents increased, until the ward
would have been in danger of continual tears if it had not been
for Polly herself. She was gayer than ever, telling the funniest
stories and singing the merriest songs, and making her little
friends half forget that the good times were not going to last.
The children never guessed that this was almost as much to help
herself over the hard place as to cheer them. In fact, they
believed that her unusual high spirits came of her being glad to
leave the hospital. Even Miss Lucy could n't quite understand it
all. But Dr. Dudley knew; he had seen her face when she had been
told that she was soon to go.

It was not strange that Polly should dread parting from the people
with whom she had been so happy, for no mother or father or
pleasant home was waiting for her,--only Aunt Jane, in the
cramped, dingy little tenement,--Aunt Jane and her six unruly
girls and boys. Poly did not permit herself to think much about
going away, however, and the last evening found her cheerful
still. Then Elsie Meyer began her doleful suggestions.

"I wonder how often your Aunt Jane 'll let you come and see us.
P'r'aps she won't let you come at all--oh, my! If she don't,
maybe we'll never see you again!"

"Nonsense, Elsie! Don't go to conjuring up any such thing!"
broke in Miss Lucy's laughing voice. "Of course--why, Polly!"
For the little girl had been brought suddenly face to face with an
awful possibility, and her courage had given way. She was sobbing
on the foot of Elsie's bed.

A low rap on the half-open door sent Miss Lucy thither, and Polly
heard Dr. Dudley speak her name. A new terror took instant
possession of her heart. The Doctor had come to take her home!
She did not stop to reason. Dropping to the floor, she crept
softly under the cot, from there to the next and the next. Her
course was straight to the door through which the physician had
entered, and by the time he was halfway across the room she had
wriggled herself clear of the last cot, and was over the sill and
in the corridor, the twilight aiding her escape. Regaining her
feet, she darted noiselessly down the long hall. At the head of
the stairs she paused. On the floor below was a small alcove
where she might hide. Making sure that no one was in sight, she
sped down, but as she reached the lower step one of the nurses
opened the door opposite.

"What are you doing down here, Polly May?"

The question was pleasant, but the answer was miserably halting.

"I--I--thought--I'd just--come--"

"Did Miss Price send you for anything?"

This time the child detected a ring of suspicion.

"Oh, no! I--I--"

"Well, you'd better go right back. It is too late to be running
around for play. The halls must be kept quiet."

"Yes, Miss Bemont," responded Polly meekly, and turned to see
Dr. Dudley at the head of the flight.

There was nothing to do but to go forward, which she did, with
downcast eyes and a throbbing heart.

"Oh, here you are!" exclaimed the physician. "I've been looking
for you. I thought you would like to take a ride up to
Warringford. I shall be back before your bedtime, and Miss Lucy
says--why, Thistledown! What is the matter?"

The revulsion had been to great, and, leaning against the Doctor's
arm, Polly was softly sobbing.

The physician sat down on the stairs, and drew the fair little
head to his shoulder. In a minute he knew it all,--the sudden
fear that had assailed her, the creeping flight across the ward,
and the baffled attempt at hiding. As he listened, his eyes grew
grave and tender, for in the broken little confession he
comprehended the child's unspoken abhorrence of the life she had
left behind when she had come to the hospital five months before.

"I would n't worry about going back to Aunt Jane's," he said
brightly. "You may be sure I shan't let her monopolize my little
Polly. Now, run along and get on your hat and coat, for the air is
growing cool. We'll have a nice spin up to Warringford, and
you'll sleep all the better for it."

Polly skipped away smiling, but presently was down in the office,
--without her wraps.

"The children feel so bad to have me go," she said soberly, "I
guess I'd better stay with them--seeing it's the last night."
Her lip quivered.

"Selfish little pigs!" returned the Doctor. "They are n't
willing anybody else shall have a taste of you."

Polly laughed. "Well, they want me to tell them a story, so I'd
better, don't you think?"

"I suppose it's kinder to them than to go for a joy ride; but
it's hard on me."

Dr. Dudley assumed a scowl of disapproval.

The child hesitated. "You know I'd rather go with you," she said
sweetly; "but they--"

"I understand all about it, brave little woman," throwing an arm
around the slender shoulders, "and I won't make it any harder for
you. Go and tell your story, and let it be a merry one.
Remember, that's the Doctor's order! Good-night."

Polly threw him a kiss from the doorway, and then he heard her
light footfalls on the stairs.

It was one of his few leisure hours, and he sat for a long time
looking out on the quiet street, where his small motor car stood
waiting. He had no inclination for a spin to Warringford now; he
was thinking too deeply about the little girl who had held so
large a share of his big heart since the day when he had first
seen her, lying so white and still, with the life all but crushed
out of her. It had not seemed possible then that she would ever
again dance around like the other children; yet her she was,
without even the bit of a limp--and going home to-morrow! Home!
He could imagine the kind of place it was, and he shook his head
gravely over the picture. Twice in the first months of Polly's
stay at the hospital her aunt had been to visit her; recently she
had not appeared. He recollected her well,--a tall, lean
woman, with unshapely garments, and a strident voice.

At eight o'clock Dr. Dudley cranked up his machine, and started
away; but he did not go in the direction of Warringford. He
turned down one of the narrow streets that led to Aunt Jane's
home.

Meantime, up in the ward, Polly had been following the Doctor's
directions until the children had laughed themselves happy.

"I did n't let on that I saw you scoot under the bed when the
Doctor came," Elsie Meyer whispered to Polly, at the first
chance. "Aimee saw you, an' Brida saw you, an' Francesca saw
you; but we did n't say nothin' when Miss Lucy an' the Doctor was
wonderin' where you could be. What made you go that way?"

"Come, Polly, say good-night," called the nurse.

And with a soft, "I'll tell you sometime, Elsie," she obeyed.

The next morning Polly went about the little helpful tasks that
she had, one after another, taken upon herself, performing each
with even more than her usual care, feeling a strange ache in her
heart at the thought of its being the last time.

It was shortly after ten o'clock that Dr. Dudley appeared at the
door.

"Polly!" he called.

She ran to him, but her answering smile was pathetic, for her lip
quivered, as she said, "I'll be ready in a minute."

"You are ready now," he returned, and taking her hand in his led
her out into the hall.

"I want you for a little while," was all he said, as they went
downstairs together.

Poly was a bit surprised when she found that their destination was
the great room where the "Board" was in session, but she could
not be afraid with Dr. Dudley; so she smiled to all the gentlemen,
and answered their questions in her soft, sweet voice, and behaved
quite like the little lady that the physician had pictured to
them.

Presently Dr. Dudley left her, while he talked in low tones with
the white-haired man at the head of the long table. When he came
back, he asked:--

"Polly, how should you like to stay here at the hospital all
summer, and help Miss Lucy and me to take care of your little
friends?"

The light that flashed into Polly's brown eyes gave them the gleam
of a sunny brook. She clasped her small hands ecstatically,
crying, "O--o--h! it would be--super-bon-donjical!"

The gentlemen laughed, the tall, white-haired one until his
shoulders shook. Then he rapped on the table, and said something
about "Miss Polly May," to which the little girl did n't pay
much attention, and there was a big chorus of ayes. After that
Polly bade them all good-bye, and went upstairs with Dr. 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
beautiful surprise! I've been wishing and wishing we had
something to give her."

"Oh, not me darlin' kitty!" returned Brida, in sudden dismay.

"No, no!" laughed Polly reassuringly. "I only meant the
surprise. Popover can amuse the whole ward, and won't Miss Lucy
be pleased!"

"It'll be splendid!" beamed Brida. "How'd yer ever think of
it?"

"I don't know; but I'm glad I did," Polly went on happily. "And
perhaps we can keep her a week or so, if we'll let her have a
little of our milk--just you and I. You would n't mind, would
you?"

"Sure, I'll let her have all she can drink!" declared Brida.

"I guess I'd better go now," said Polly. "What is the number 7----"

"It's 739 Liberty Street," repeated Brida; "an old brown house
next to the corner."

Miss Lucy thought it was rather too warm for a walk, especially as
Polly was not very strong yet; but the little girl urged it with
such sparkling eyes that she finally let her go, bidding her keep
on the shady side of the street and not to stay out too long.

Polly reached Liberty Street where it was crossed by Union, but
was taken somewhat aback when she looked at a number on the west
side and found it to be only 452.

"Never mind!" was her second thought; "there are not quite three
hundred numbers more, and half of those are on the other side;
besides, they skip lots of them."

So she walked on contentedly, keeping track of the numbers as
she passed along. They counted up fast, the houses were so
thickly set. Polly thought the occupants must all be out of
doors, for lounging men and women filled the doorways, and the
sidewalks were scattered with children. The air grew hot and
stifling and full of disagreeable odors. The little girl half
wished that she had not come. Then she remembered how pleased
Brida would be to see her kitten again, and that gave her new
strength and courage.

She was very tired when she came to the little shop numbered 703;
but with the glad thought that the "brown house" could not be
far off she began to look for it.

Directly across her way was stretched a jumping rope, which, as
she was about to step over, the girls at either end whirled up in
front of her. To the astonishment of the mischievous tricksters,
Polly skipped into time as adroitly as the most expert rope-jumper
could have wished, and the giggling pair almost forgot their part.
But they recovered themselves to give Polly a half-dozen skips.
Then, clearing the rope with a graceful bound, she turned to one
of the girls.

"Can you tell me, please, where Mrs. MacCarthy lives?--Brida
MacCarthy's mother?"

With a second surprise on her freckled face, the child pointed to a
fat, red-cheeked woman, who was cooling herself with a big palm-leaf
fan, in a basement doorway just beyond.

"Thank you," was the polite response, and Polly descended the
short flight of steps into the bricked area.

The woman looked up expectantly.

"I'm Polly May, of the hospital staff," the little girl
announced modestly, "and Brida would like her kitten, please."

The smile on Mrs. MacCarthy's face expanded into a big, joyous
laugh.

"Does she now? Moira! Katie! D'ye here that? Brida's sint f'r her
cat! Sure an' she moost be gittin' 'long rale well! An' ye're
from th' hospital! Moira! Where's yer manners? Fetch th' little
lady a chair! Katie, git a mug o' wather an' wan o' thim big
crackers. Don't ye know how to trate comp'ny?"

In a minute Polly was seated, a china mug of water in one hand,
and a crisp soda biscuit in the other, while the MacCarthy family
circled around her, eager for news from the beloved Brida. There
were only encouraging accounts to give of the little girl with the
broken ankle; but they led to so many questions that Polly began
to wonder how she should ever escape from these friendly people,
when Popover herself solved the question.

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