“Colonel Gresham—­your uncle?” Now Polly’s eyes widened, too.

“My mother’s uncle.”

“Oh, is n’t that splendid!” beamed Polly.  “I should think he’d have told me!”

David lay quite still for a moment.  When he spoke again it was on an entirely different matter, and soon the ten minutes were up.

“Did you know that David is related to Colonel Gresham?” Polly asked, as she went downstairs with Dr. Dudley.

“No; how?”

Polly told, adding what she had learned of the family history.

The Doctor shook his head sadly.

“I would n’t say anything about it to the children,” he cautioned her.  “Such things are better left untalked of.  David is an unusual boy.”

“When can he come down in our ward?” she questioned.

“Very soon, if he keeps on improving as fast as he has lately.”

As they halted at the foot of the stairs, the Doctor looked at his watch.

“Tired?” he queried.

“Not a bit,” she laughed.

“Then we’ll keep on,” he smiled, taking her hand again.  “There is a lady I’d like you to see, one of my private patients.”

“A young lady?”

“She has white hair.”

“Oh, an old lady!”

“She is older than you and I.”

“We are not old at all.”

“And we never will grow old, will we?” twinkled the Doctor.

“We shall have to, if we live long enough.”

“No, we won’t; we’ll always keep young.”

Polly was laughing, as they entered a corridor in an “L” of the main building, a part of the hospital with which she was not familiar; but she grew grave instantly, for the Doctor paused at a door, and she realized that here was the lady they had come to see.

The introduction over, Polly found herself facing a worn little woman, with weary gray eyes, who looked more small and frail in contrast with the great oaken chair in which she was pillowed.  Mrs. Jocelyn, the Doctor had called her, and Polly like the sound of the name; but she was not yet sure that she should like the owner of it.  The lady did not smile when she said, almost as if having a visitor bored her:—­

“So you are staying here at the hospital, Dr. Dudley tells me.  What do you find to do with yourself all day long?”

Polly had the feeling that the little sad lady would never know whether she returned an answer or not, for her eyes seemed to be looking at something for away.  Yet the reply was without hesitation, and primly courteous.

“I help Miss Lucy make the beds and dress the babies, and I dust and I carry medicine and drinks of water.  Then, when there is n’t anything to do to help, I read stories out loud, or tell them, and we play quiet games.”  She paused, hunting for facts.  “Oh and I go auto riding with Dr. Dudley!” she broke out brightly.  “That’s very nice.  A And I’ve been to ride with Colonel Gresham!” she smiled.  “I like that, Lone Star was so splendid.  Only David was awfully sick, and I was afraid he’d die, and I kept thinking of him.  He said he would take me again some day.”