Part 15 (1/2)
”How does it feel to be eleven?” broke in the Doctor's happy voice.
”Why, I was eleven day before yesterday,” laughed Polly. ”I've had time to get used to it.”
”But that was a birthday, and yesterday was a party day; it is when you get back to the everydayness that you begin to feel things.”
”It isn't a bit different from ten,” she declared. ”Yes, a little, because I have all these roses to give away. Aren't they sweet?” She held them up for her father to sniff.
”Come to breakfast!” was the gentle command from the dining-room, and Polly skipped on ahead, cautioning the Doctor to be sure not to spill the water from the vase with which she had entrusted him.
The hour before school found Polly and the pink roses on their way to the big white house. Having the freedom of the hospital almost as much as Dr. Dudley himself, she flitted in and out whenever she chose, never in anybody's way, and greeted with smiles from nurses and patients.
Her errand this morning carried her first to the children's convalescent ward, where she was so eagerly seized upon that she escaped only by pleading her additional flowers to distribute, and school time not far away.
With the eighth rose still in her hand, and debating whether to carry it up to the children, or to give it to a boy in the surgical ward with whom she had once spoken, she pa.s.sed a half-open door on one of the private-room corridors.
Glancing inside, she saw a young man, with bandaged eyes, lying on a couch. He was quite alone, and his mouth looked sad.
”I wonder if he would like it,” she questioned, and a breath of fragrance from the half-blown rose answered her. ”He can smell it, even if he can't see it,” she thought, and stepped inside the room.
The man turned his head.
”Would you like one of my birthday roses?” she asked. ”It is very sweet.” She put it in his hand.
”I thank you, indeed.” The sad lips smiled. ”This is quite outside of my programme. In fact, I had almost forgotten there were such pleasant times as birthdays.”
”It was day before yesterday,” she ventured.
”And I judge by your voice that the number of roses needed was not large.”
She laughed softly. ”Only eleven.”
”About as I guessed! I hope the rest of the birthday matched the roses. This is very beautiful.” His fingers gave it a caressing touch.
”Oh, I had a lovelicious birthday! I really had two of them!”
”Two? That sounds interesting. Can't you sit down here and tell me about it?”
”If I wouldn't be late to school,” she hesitated. ”I don't know what time it is.”
He pulled a watch from his pocket, and held it up for her view.
”Oh, I've twenty-seven minutes! I can stay a little while.”
She took the chair beside him, and recounted the story of the intermediate entertainment, intuitively omitting the part which Ilga played. That it was appreciated by her listener Polly could not doubt.
”You must come and see me again,” he invited, as she rose to go. ”I think you may do me more good than the Doctor.”
”Oh, no!” she objected softly; ”I couldn't do anything better than father! He cures everybody.”
The young man smiled doubtfully.