When they returned to the office the story of the afternoon was finished, Polly holding back nothing, even repeating her saucy speech to the nurse.

The Doctor received it with a queer little smile.

“It was dreadfully impolite things when I get mad.”

“Most people do,” he responded.  “One of the worst features of anger is that it robs us of self-control, and that is a terrible loss, if only for a moment.”

Polly did not speak and after a bit of a pause the Doctor went on.

“Miss Price is going through a pretty hard place just now.  Word came yesterday that her only sister, who is a missionary in Turkey, is very sick and not expected to live.”

“Oh, I wish I had n’t said that!” Polly broke out penitently.  “I might go up and tell her I’m sorry,” she hesitated.

“It would n’t be a bad plan,” Dr. Dudley replied.

So Polly said good-night rather soberly, although carrying away with her the gay-colored book and the happy belief that David was going to get well.

Her feet lagged, as they drew near the ward.  What would Miss Price say?  Would she make it easy or hard for her to apologize?  Then the thought of the sick sister far away in Turkey, and half forgot herself.

The nurse was writing at her little table, when she looked up to see Polly by her side.

“I’m sorry I was so saucy this afternoon,” came in a soft voice.  “I did n’t know about your sister then.  I hope she’ll get well.”

For a moment Miss Price did not speak, and Polly fancied she saw tears in the black eyes.

“Thank you, my dear,” she replied then.  “Perhaps I was too severe.  But we will be friends now, won’t we?”

Polly gave a serious assent, in doubt whether she should proffer a kiss or not; but finally went away without giving the token.  She had a vague feeling that Miss Hortensia Price would not care for kisses.

Chapter VI

Elsie’s Birthday

For a week Elsie Meyers had been talking about her coming birthday, and half wishing that she could be discharged early enough to allow its celebration at home.

“Mamma always makes a cake for our birthdays,” she told the children, plaintively.  “Last year mine was choc’late, and year before that, jelly.  Mamma said next time she’d have it orange, same’s she did Ida’s.  Now I can’t have no cake or nothin’, ’count o’ this old hip!” and she pouted discontentedly.

“But your arm is ’most well,” suggested Polly.  “That’s one good thing!”

“Yes,” admitted Elsie.

“And it’s nice that you can be all around, instead of having to lie abed,” Polly went on, hunting for happy birthday accompaniments.

“Bet you ‘t is!” smiled Elsie.  “Ying’ a-bed ain’t much fun, ’specially when you ache anywhere.”

“If Miss Lucy was here, maybe she’d have a cake for you,” put in Leonora.