Dudley tell you," advised Polly.
"Huh! My mamma says n.o.body on earth can make me mind!" He beckoned her nearer. "Say," he chuckled, "she put an ice bag on me," with a wink towards the nurse, "_and I got out some o" the ice!_ It"s awful good! She would n"t give me a drop o" water, only horrid old warm stuff." He showed his tongue, with a bit of ice upon it.
Polly was shocked. In the light of what the physician had told her, she realized that the boy was ignorantly thwarting the efforts of those who were trying to save his life. She did not know what to say."
"Do you like stories?" she finally asked.
The lad looked surprised, but answered, "Some kinds. Why?"
"I thought I"d tell you one, if you"d like me to."
"Do you know one "bout soldiers?"
"I don"t believe I do; but I know a song about a soldier."
"Can you sing?"
"Yes."
"Sing, then."
"Will you lie still if I will?" asked Polly.
"It"s a go!"
So Polly sang the old, old song of "The Drummer Boy of Waterloo," one that her grandmother had taught her when she was a wee girl.
The boy was true to his promise, and remained motionless until the last note ceased.
"Sing it again!" he commanded. "That"s a dandy!"
Twice, three times more, the sad little ditty was sung; then the sweet voice slipped softly into Holland"s "Lullaby," which had been learned from hearing it sung by Miss Lucy to restless little patients.
"Rockaby, lullaby, bees in the clover, Crooning so drowsily, crying so low.
Rockaby, lullaby, dear little rover, Down into wonderland, Down to the underland, Down into wonderland go!
"Rockaby, lullaby, dew on the clover!
Dew on the eyes that will sparkle at dawn.
Rockaby, lullaby, dear little rover, Into the stilly world, Into the lily world.
Into the lily world gone!"
Before Polly reached the last word the song had died almost to a breath, for Burton was "gone"--fast asleep. For a time she watched him. His breathing was slow and steady. Finally she slipped softly from her chair, and glanced across the room. Miss 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 can usually find something lovable in everybody, if we look for it deep enough and long enough."
There was a moment"s hush, and then Elsie piped out:--
"David, can"t you tell another story, please?"
"It is pretty nearly bedtime," Miss Lucy suggested. "If we have one, it must be short."
"Oh, David, sing a song--do!" begged Polly.
"Can he sing?" queried Cornelius wonderingly.
"Beautifully!" answered Polly.
"You don"t know!" laughed David.
"You never heard me."
"Yes, I do know!" insisted Polly. "They would n"t let you sing solos at St. Paul"s Church if you did n"t sing well--so!"
The children waited in astonished silence. This was an accomplishment of David"s which had not been told them.
Miss Lucy propped him up a little higher among his pillows, and then he began the sweet vesper hymn, "The King of Love my Shepherd is."
The children were very quiet until they were sure that the singing was over. Then Brida voiced everybody"s thought.
"Was n"t that beautiful!"
Presently Polly was going about her little nightly tasks humming the melody to herself. She was quick to catch an air, and with a bit of prompting from David she soon had the words.
"Oh, you David can sing it to us together to-morrow night!"
cried Elsie, and there was a responsive chorus from all over the ward.
Polly went to sleep singing the hymn in her heart.
Miss Lucy"s cot was nearest the door, and shortly after midnight she waked with the sound of a rap in her ears. Hastily throwing on a robe which was always at hand, she answered with a soft, "What is it?"
"Burton Leonard is worse," came in Dr. Dudley"s low voice, "and he wants Polly to sing to him. Get her ready as quick as you can, please."