“Thank you,” was the polite response, and Polly descended the short flight of steps into the bricked area.

The woman looked up expectantly.

“I’m Polly May, of the hospital staff,” the little girl announced modestly, “and Brida would like her kitten, please.”

The smile on Mrs. MacCarthy’s face expanded into a big, joyous laugh.

“Does she now?  Moira!  Katie!  D’ye here that?  Brida’s sint f’r her cat!  Sure an’ she moost be gittin’ ‘long rale well!  An’ ye’re from th’ hospital!  Moira!  Where’s yer manners?  Fetch th’ little lady a chair!  Katie, git a mug o’ wather an’ wan o’ thim big crackers.  Don’t ye know how to trate comp’ny?”

In a minute Polly was seated, a china mug of water in one hand, and a crisp soda biscuit in the other, while the MacCarthy family circled around her, eager for news from the beloved Brida.  There were only encouraging accounts to give of the little girl with the broken ankle; but they led to so many questions that Polly began to wonder how she should ever escape from these friendly people, when Popover herself solved the question.

The pretty black kitten suddenly appeared at the visitor’s side, and at the first caressing word from Polly jumped into her lap.

“D’ ye see that?” cried the delighted mother, and in the momentary excitement Polly arose and said that she must go.

Brida’s sisters and small brother accompanied her for two blocks up the street, and then, with numerous good-byes, they left her to her long, wearisome walk.

She had not gone far before she realized that the warm little animal was more of a burden than she had counted on, exhausted as she was already with her unusual exercise; but she kept up courageously, even making little spurts of speed as she would wonder if Miss Lucy were becoming anxious about her.  After awhile, however, instead of hurrying, she was obliged to stop now and then on a corner, to catch the breeze coming up from the sea, for she felt strangely faint.  When she finally trudged up Hospital Hill, the air grew cool all at once, and she quite forgot herself for thinking of Brida and Miss Lucy.

At the door of the ward she paused for a peep.  The nurse was not in sight.  A few of the children were gathered at the windows with books and pictures; several were on the floor playing quiet games.  So softly did she step that nobody knew she was there until she was well in the room.  The, spying both her and the kitten, there was a shout and a rush.

“No, you can’t have her yet!” cried Polly, as small hands were outstretched to lift the now uneasy burden from her arms.  “Brida has first right, because it’s her kitten.”

“Oh, Popover!” squealed the little owner delightedly, snuggling the furry creature to her cheek.

“Where’s Miss Lucy?” demanded Polly, waiving the children’s eager questions.

“Oh, they sent to have her come somewhere!” answered Ethel Jones.  “She went in an awful hurry, and said prob’ly she’d be back pretty soon; but she has n’t come yet.”