Miss Lucy told briefly the incident of the night, and he lay down again, but not to sleep.  If the nurse so much as stirred, David was always looking her way.

The ward was greatly excited at the news; but Miss Lucy had been true in her predictions.  Never had such noiseless toilets been made within its walls.  Everybody went about on tiptoe, and Leonora Hewitt would not walk at all, lest the thump of her crutch on the floor might waken Polly.

The little girl was still asleep when Dr. Dudley came, but soon afterward she opened her eyes to find him at her side.  Almost her first words were an inquiry about Burton Leonard.

“He is very much better,” the Doctor replied.  “He wanted me to tell you not to worry about him to-day, for he would keep still without your singing.  I did n’t know there was such good stuff in him.  He has been angelic, Miss Price says, ever since he heard that you were tired out.  That seemed to touch his little heart.  He called you ‘a dandy girl.’  You have quite won him over.”

“I’m glad,” smiled Polly.  “I guess I can sing a little for him to-day, if he needs me.”

“You won’t!” Dr. Dudley replied.  “You are to stay in bed, Miss Polly May!  When young ladies are out all night they must lie abed the next day.”

“All day long?” she queried.

“Yes.”

Polly sighed a bit of a sigh; then she smiled again.

“I may talk, may n’t I?” she begged.

“Not many bedside receptions to-day,” he answered.  “I want you to sleep all you can.”

With a little chuckle she shut her eyes tight.  “Good-night!” she said demurely.

“That is a gentle hint for me to go,” the Doctor laughed.  Then he bent for a whisper in her ear.  “If you sleep enough to-day, I think we’ll have a ride to-morrow.”

She opened her eyes, returned a happy “thank you,” and then cuddled down on her pillow.

Chapter X

The Ward’s Anniversary

The convalescent ward was generally a happy place, for everybody was getting well, and getting well is pleasant business.  Just now it was at its best.  The majority of the children had lived together long enough to be loyal friends, and there were no discordant dispositions.  In fact, discords knew better than to push in where Miss Lucy reigned.  Her gentle tack had proved quite sufficient for any disagreeable element that had yet appeared in the ward, and lately all had been harmony.  The nurse would have told you that this was greatly due to Polly May, and Polly would have insisted it was entirely Miss Lucy’s work; but as long as happiness was there nobody cared whence it came.

David Collins was a decided acquisition; the ward agreed in that.

“He can tell stories almost as well as Polly,” declared Elsie Meyer to a knot of her chosen intimates.

“Not qui-te,” objected loyal little Brida, glancing over her shoulder to make sure that they were far enough away from the ears of the boy under discussion.