“She’s the niece of one of our best known residents.  Her name is Pollyanna Whittier.  I—­I don’t happen to enjoy a very extensive personal acquaintance with the little lady as yet; but lots of my patients do—­I’m thankful to say!”

The nurse smiled.

“Indeed!  And what are the special ingredients of this wonder-working—­tonic of hers?”

The doctor shook his head.

“I don’t know.  As near as I can find out it is an overwhelming, unquenchable gladness for everything that has happened or is going to happen.  At any rate, her quaint speeches are constantly being repeated to me, and, as near as I can make out, ’just being glad’ is the tenor of most of them.  All is,” he added, with another whimsical smile, as he stepped out on to the porch, “I wish I could prescribe her—­and buy her—­as I would a box of pills;—­though if there gets to be many of her in the world, you and I might as well go to ribbon-selling and ditch-digging for all the money we’d get out of nursing and doctoring,” he laughed, picking up the reins and stepping into the gig.

Pollyanna, meanwhile, in accordance with the doctor’s orders, was being escorted to John Pendleton’s rooms.

Her way led through the great library at the end of the hall, and, rapid as was her progress through it, Pollyanna saw at once that great changes had taken place.  The book-lined walls and the crimson curtains were the same; but there was no litter on the floor, no untidiness on the desk, and not so much as a grain of dust in sight.  The telephone card hung in its proper place, and the brass andirons had been polished.  One of the mysterious doors was open, and it was toward this that the maid led the way.  A moment later Pollyanna found herself in a sumptuously furnished bedroom while the maid was saying in a frightened voice: 

“If you please, sir, here—­here’s a little girl with some jelly.  The doctor said I was to—­to bring her in.”

The next moment Pollyanna found herself alone with a very cross-looking man lying flat on his back in bed.

“See here, didn’t I say—­” began an angry voice.  “Oh, it’s you!” it broke off not very graciously, as Pollyanna advanced toward the bed.

“Yes, sir,” smiled Pollyanna.  “Oh, I’m so glad they let me in!  You see, at first the lady ’most took my jelly, and I was so afraid I wasn’t going to see you at all.  Then the doctor came, and he said I might.  Wasn’t he lovely to let me see you?”

In spite of himself the man’s lips twitched into a smile; but all he said was “Humph!”

“And I’ve brought you some jelly,” resumed Pollyanna; “—­calf’s-foot.  I hope you like it?” There was a rising inflection in her voice.

“Never ate it.”  The fleeting smile had gone, and the scowl had come back to the man’s face.

For a brief instant Pollyanna’s countenance showed disappointment; but it cleared as she set the bowl of jelly down.