“Yes,” beamed Polly, “and I’m so glad!”

“We all are.  He has been a hard child to manage.  We have much to thank you for—­I shall never forget what you have done!”

Polly was astonished at this praise that she could do nothing but blush and murmur a few words of dissent.

“Burton’s mother,” Miss Price went on, “wishes you would come in some time and sing her that hymn again, the last one you sang, ‘The King of Love my Shepherd is.’”

“Oh,” smiled Polly, “I wish she could hear David sing that!  He sings it beautifully!  I never heard it till that night, so I did n’t know it very well; but if she could come up into the ward, I’m sure David would sing it for her.”

Miss Price seemed to ignore David altogether, for she only said:—­

“Polly May, if you can learn like that, with your sweet voice,—­ why, you must have a musical education!  I shall speak to Dr. Dudley about it at once.  But I’m keeping you standing here, child, and you not strong!”

Polly assured her that she was not tired in the least, and thanked her again for the flowers.  Then she ran upstairs, to tell the astonishing news to Miss Lucy and the ward, and to show her sweet peas in proof of Miss Hortensia Price’s wonderful kindness.

After everybody had had a sniff of the fragrant blossoms, Polly proposed moving a little table to the side of David’s cot, and placing the flowers on it.

“Because,” she argued, “if David had n’t sung the hymn that night, I could n’t have and if I had n’t, maybe Miss Price would n’t have given me the sweet peas; so I think they belong to David as much as to me.”

The children—­all but David, and his protests went for naught—­accepted Polly’s reasoning as perfectly logical, and readily helped carry out her suggestion.  Miss Lucy smiled to herself, while she allowed them to do as they pleased.

“Will they keep till to-morrow, s’pose?” Questioned Elsie anxiously.

“Of course,” answered Polly.  “Why?”

“Cause they’ll help celebrate,” Elsie returned.

“Celebrate what?” queried Polly, wiping a drop of overrunning water from the glass which Miss Lucy had supplied.

“Why, the war’s birthday!  Don’t you know about it?” And Elsie looked her astonishment at having heard any new with which Polly was not already acquainted.

“I don’t know what you mean,” Polly replied.

Then what a babel of tongues!  Each wanted to be first to inform Polly.

“The ward’s five years old to-morrow!”—­“Miss Lucy’s been tellin’ us!”—­“it was started five years ago!”—­“There was only three children in it then!”—­“She said we ought to celebrate!”—­“A lady give it to the hospital!”

“We’ll every one wear a sweet pea all day!” announced Polly.

“That’ll be lovely!” beamed Elsie.

“They’ll wilt,” objected practical Moses.

“Never mind!” returned Polly.  “We can give ’em a drink once in a while.”