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.