The Cherry-Pudding Story

The June breeze hurried up from the harbor to the big house on the
hill, and fluttered playfully past the window vines into the
children's convalescent ward. It was a common saying at the
hospital that the tidal breeze always reached the children's ward
first. Sometimes the little people were waiting for it, ready
with their welcome; but to-day there were none to laugh a
greeting. The room was very quiet. The occupants of the little
white cots had slept unusually long, and the few that had awakened
from their afternoon naps were still too drowsy to be astir.
Besides, Polly was not there, and the ward was never the same
without Polly.

As the young nurse in charge passed noiselessly between the rows
of beds, a small hand pulled at her apron.

"Ain't it 'most time for Polly to come?"

"Yes, I think she will be back pretty soon now." Miss Lucy
smiled down into the wistful little face.

"I want Polly to tell me a story," Elsie went on, with a bit of
a whine: "my hip aches so bad."

"Does it feel worse to-day?" asked the nurse sympathetically.

"No; I guess not," answered the little girl, glad of a listener.
"It aches all the time, 'cept when I'm asleep or Polly's tellin'