Polly of Lady Gay Cottage Part 19

"One would be quite enough," laughed Floyd, "if only that were New York. Oh, come on, Polly! We'll have no end of a good time."

She shook her head slowly, the red fluttering on her cheeks. "I can't," she told him; "truly I can't!"

"All right," he responded, and touched the subject no more; yet Polly was troubled at the seriousness of his face. Finding relatives was not complete joy after all.

The good-byes, which came soon, brought no further word from him in regard to her decision; but he urged an early visit, to which Polly and her parents agreed.

The taxicab that carried Floyd and his luggage to the station was barely out of sight when Polly spied a familiar little figure on the hospital walk.

"There's Moses Cohn!" she cried. "I wonder what he is coming for."

"Hullo, Polly!" was the friendly call, the freckled face under the shabby hat shining with delight.

She waved him a welcome, dancing about in the cold of the morning until he came up. They went inside together, Moses eagerly unfolding his errand.

"I've been tellin' a kid 'bout Dr. Dudley and you," he began. "He's sick, awful sick, and his father wouldn't have no doctor, and Chris he keeps a-growin' worser 'n worser. So I said how Dr. Dudley could cure him quicker 'n lightnin', and I guess he'll bring him up--he 'most promised."

"It might be better for me to see him first," observed the physician.

"No, sir! he said 'xpressly for you not to come!"

"Then I can send the ambulance--"

"No, he don't want that neither! He's goin' to bring him right in his arms. Why, I could myself--easy! He's the littlest kid, an' han'some!

My, he's a beaut! Jus' wait till you see him! He ain't but nine years old. He goes to my school, or did before he was sick. His father's got the money--you bet! An' my! he thinks that kid's it! He is, too! I guess they'll be here pretty soon--he 'most promised."

On the strength of Moses Cohn's story, Dr. Dudley ordered a bed to be prepared for the probable patient; but he did not arrive until evening and Polly had given up his coming. Then the father insisted on a private room for his little son, remaining himself to see that everything was provided for his comfort.

"Good-bye, Chris! Keep up a big bluff! Daddy'll be here in the morning sure!" That was what the attending nurse overheard of the parting. A minute after the door had shut, she discovered her little patient shedding silent tears for "daddy"; but he brightened quickly at her cheering words, and soon dropped into a quiet sleep.

Polly was anxious to see the boy of whom Moses had told her, but the slow fever from which he was suffering kept him a stranger for many days. When, at last, she was allowed to pay him a visit, even Moses'

description of his friend had not prepared her for the beautiful wisp of a lad with the sky-blue eyes and the red-gold hair. Polly thought she had never seen so lovely a face. Her smile brought a shy response from the pillow, though talk did not at once flourish.

"Father says you are better," Polly ventured.

Only a wee nod answered her.

"I've been wanting to come in before," she persevered. "Moses Cohn told me about you."

A faint smile.

"Do you like it here at the hospital?" Polly questioned adroitly.

No smile now, only an added wistfulness. Then courtesy brought a soft response.

"I like it evenings, when daddy comes."

"It's nice you have him to come to see you. I used to wish I had somebody. There was only Aunt Jane, and I guess she was too busy."

"Were you sick, too?" The sky-blue eyes showed interest.

"I was hurt, and they brought me here. I lived in the hospital ever so long."

"Weren't you lonesome?"

"No, only once in a while, when I saw other folks having company. I was in the ward, you know. After I got acquainted with father--he wasn't my father then--I didn't mind. Don't you just love father?

Everybody does!"

"Yes; he's nice," smiled the boy. "How did he come to be your father?"

"He and mother adopted me. My own papa and mamma are in Heaven."

"Oh! are they? That's where mommy is. Daddy is all I've got. I wish you'd come and see daddy sometime. He gets here every night right after six o'clock."

"I'd love to!" Polly beamed. "Fathers are beautiful, I think. Of course, mothers are--but fathers!" Her curls gave the emphasis.

"I know!" cried little Chris, his eyes ashine. "Daddy's the dearest that ever was! Why, if anything should happen to daddy--there might, while I'm here and can't take care of him!--oh, I don't know what I should do!" Fear crept over the sweet face.

"I wouldn't worry about it," counseled Polly cheerily. "Big men can take care of themselves better than little folks like us can."

"Daddy isn't very big," confided Chris in a low tone; "but he's strong, strong as anything! I guess there couldn't much hurt him, could there?" he smiled rea.s.suringly.

"No, indeed!" a.s.sented Polly.

"He is so strong he brought me 'way up here in his arms," the lad exulted, "and he wasn't tired a bit! I wish he could come and stay with me daytimes," the wistful voice went on, "but he has to sleep then. He watches, you know."

"And you have to stay alone all night?" Polly's eyes showed sympathy.

"Oh! daddy doesn't go away till after I'm asleep," the lad explained, "and he is home again before I wake up. A nice woman in the next room comes in if I call her. I never did but once, and that was when I fell out of bed. I gave a little cry before I knew anything. It didn't hurt me a mite, but she was scared, and daddy was, too. He wouldn't leave me the next night."

Dr. Dudley's entrance put a stop to the talk, and presently Polly said good-bye, carrying away with her a happy picture of Moses Cohn's protege.

When Polly first saw "daddy" she was conscious of disappointment. The slight man with the cold black eyes and the hard-lined mouth did not tally with her thought of "the dearest that ever was." Yet his greeting was pleasant, and whenever he spoke to his little son a tenderness stole into his voice that made her regard him with more lenient eyes, and before her visit was over he proved himself so fascinating an entertainer, she went away feeling that the opinion of little Chris was not after all so very far from the truth.

One night "daddy" did not appear, until the sick boy, who for hours had strained his ears for the step he loved, was in a state of agitation which the combined efforts of nurse and physician failed to calm.

At last Polly was summoned, and although her arguments were not unlike those put forth by the others, they were made in such simple faith as to carry greater force.

"He'd come if he was alive! I know he would!" the boy had been tearfully reiterating. "He must be dead--oh, daddy! daddy!"

Polly entered in time to hear the last. She skipped straight to the cot.

"Now, Chris, just listen to me! Your daddy isn't dead!"

"How do you know?" he asked weakly. There was a touch of hope in the doubting tone.

"Why, we'd have heard of it long before this, if he were," she reasoned rashly.