darling, and they ain't any relation either. I'm glad they
ain't," she added decidedly. "I would n't have Miss Lucy related
to her for anything!"

"Oh, no!" returned Ethel, comprehendingly, as she scraped her
plate for a last morsel of pudding.

The three "cases," which appeared in the convalescent ward
promptly at the hour named, proved to be two girls and a boy,--
Brida MacCarthy, Isabel Smith, and Moses Cohn. Polly did her
share in routing the evident fears of the small strangers, their
wide, anxious eye showing that they dreaded what might lie ahead
of them in these unknown quarters.

The wonderful giant story, which ended merrily,--as all of
Polly's stories did end,--made Moses her valiant follower as
long as he remained in the ward; the tender little slumber song,
which Polly's mother had taught her, put the tiny Isabel to sleep;
and the verses about the "Kit-Cat Luncheon" completely won the
heart of Irish Brida.

"I got a kitty, too!" she confided. "Her name's Popover, 'cause
when the kitties was all little, an' runnin' round, an' playin',
she'd pop right over on her back, jus' as funny! She's all black
concept[sic] a little spot o' white--oh, me kitty is the
prettiest kitty in town!"

"How shall I ever get along without her!" sighed the young
nurse, as she watched Polly flitting about like a sprite,
comforting restless little patients, hushing, with her ready tact,