The little girl was dreaming of Aunt Jane. She was trying to hold a tall ladder straight up in the air, while Aunt Jane climbed to the top, and her aunt was fretting because she did not keep it steady. "Oh, I can"t hold on a minute longer!" Polly dreamed she was saying to herself. "But I must! I must! Because Miss Lucy said we were to do kindness for anybody we did n"t love!"
Then she roused enough to know that Miss Lucy was bending over her, whispering:
"Polly dear! Can you wake up?"
"Oh! David?" Polly"s first thought was for her friend.
"No, darling; David"s all right. Dr. Dudley wants you to come down and sing to little Burton Leonard."
"Oh, of course I"ll go!" Polly was wide awake now, and ready for anything.
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 n.o.body 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 gla.s.s, 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 bit of a rest, until his insistent, "Sing more!" roused her from a momentary dream.
The mother sat a little apart, but kept her eyes on her boy"s face, ready for instant service.
Several times the physician reached over to feel his patient"s pulse, and seemed satisfied with what he found.
So the night dragged by.
It was early dawn when Miss Price, in answer to the repeated call, again fetched water, and, as before, the child refused it.
"Take away that nasty old hot stuff, and bring me some cold!" he commanded, with a spurt of his usual lordliness.
The nurse gently urged him to taste it; but he only pushed the spoon away.
Dr. Dudley was about to speak, when Polly interposed with the first lines of "The Secret," a little song she had learned in her last days of school. Her voice was loud enough to catch the boy"s attention, but the words were sung slowly and confidentially.
"What do you think is in our back yard?
P"rhaps you can guess, if you try real hard.
It is n"t a puppy, or little white mice, But it"s something that"s every bit as nice!
Oh, no, it"s not chickens or kittens at all!"
She broke off, her eyes smilingly meeting Burton"s.
"What is it?" he asked feebly.
"Take some of that," she replied, pointing to the cup, and I"ll sing "the rest."
He frowned at her, as she leaned back on the Doctor"s shoulder.
In her att.i.tude he saw nothing of hope, unless he complied with her requirement. Without another protest he swallowed a few spoonfuls of liquid.
"Can"t you think what is soft and round and small?
It"s two little--somethings, as white as snow!
_Two dear baby rabbits!_--there, now--you know!"
"Sing it again!" he begged.
Soon his eyelids dropped together, but as the song was ended he opened them wide, with a silent appeal for more.
So the tired little girl sang the lullaby that had put him to sleep early the day before. This time it did not have the hoped-for effect, and the vesper hymn which David had sung--at the bedtime hour which now seemed so very far away--came to the singer"s mind. Softly she began the tender little song, going through it without a break.
At its close the boy lay quite still, and with a sight of relief her bright head dropped on the pillowing shoulder.
The Doctor leaned forward, and listened. The lad"s breathing was soft and regular.
"Sound asleep at last! Now, Thistledown--a-h!" he gasped, for Polly lay on his arm, a limp little heap.
With great strides he carried her to the window.
The nurse reached the couch as soon as he, and thrust the globule into his hand.
Crushing it in his handkerchief, he pa.s.sed it before the child"s nostrils, and with a little fluttering breath the brown eyes opened.
"I guess--I--was--a little tired," Polly said brokenly.
"You were faint--that"s all. Don"t try to talk."
Miss Price brought some medicine in a gla.s.s, and Polly obediently swallowed the draught.