There was look of expectancy on the midget’s face.  A word of joy broke from her lips.

Polly laid the beautiful doll in her arms, smiling to see the rapture in the big blue eyes.

Then a wee shadow crept over.  “Mine?  All mine?” questioned the tiny one.

“Yes, all yours,” was the sure answer.  “Is n’t it a darling?”

Trotty did not speak, but hugged the new baby to her heart in a way that left no doubt.  Polly wished that Mrs. Jocelyn were there to see.

After the other smaller packages had been left with the several patients for whom they were marked, Polly said, in a voice that carried to all the cots:—­

“This is n’t all.  There is something for everybody; but I could n’t bring so many.  Dr. Dudley and miss Price are coming up with the rest.”

They started a babel of joyous questioning; but Polly was responsive and patient, and altogether so satisfactory, that the little sick people settled back on their pillows in supreme content, to await the coming of their presents.

The others had heard, too, and pressed about Polly with eager talk.

“I chose a doll for every girl that has n’t any,” she told them gaily, “and I got just as pretty ones as there were in the store.”

“Say, what colored hair has mine?” questioned Mabel.

“Light, like Stella’s, I think.”

“Oh, goody!” squealed the little maid.  “And is it curly?”

Polly nodded.

“Wha’ d’ yer buy for Leonora?” queried a curious one.

Polly threw a bright smile across to her friend, while she answered merrily:—­

“You wait!  It’s something pretty.”

“I guess Polly’s had an awful good time,” observed thoughtful Mary Pender; “she’s so full of fun.”

Miss Lucy, entering the ward at the moment, overheard the remark, as her eyes met Polly’s.

The little girl waived a reply, and ran over to greet the nurse.

“Is Mary right?” Miss Lucy smiled.

Polly hesitated, growing grave.  Then her eyes danced mischievously.  “Just about right,” she answered softly.  “It was ‘good’ and ‘awful’ both.  But I had a lovely time with Dr. Dudley after I came home—­lovely!”

Miss Lucy sent a quick searching glance into the happy eyes, and they fell before it.  Polly feared she had told too much.  But no, she reasoned, because the secret was also Miss Lucy’s.  She looked up again half shyly.  The nurse’s cheeks were very pink, and her lips were smiling.

“Precious child!” she murmured; and then she kissed her, a bit of favoritism which she seldom allowed herself.  But there was now an excuse.  Polly had been away.

Shortly afterwards Miss Hortensia Price and the Doctor appeared, laden with happiness for the ward.  The dignified nurse seemed in a holiday mood, to match her ribboned armful, and she remained to see the delight of the children, as they unwrapped their presents.