The boy's face saddened. "I guess I can't ever come," he said.

"Why not?"

"Because I was hurt so badly. I don't think I'm going to get
well."

"Oh, yes, you will!" asserted Polly. "Of course Dr. Dudley will
cure you! Goodness! You ought to have seen how I was all smashed
up! But Dr. Dudley cured me--he can cure anybody!"

"He can?" echoed David, a little doubtfully. "How 'd you get
hurt? Were you run over?"

"Yes, by a building," Polly laughed. "Only it did n't run; it
fell. I was 'way up on the third floor, and all of a sudden it
went--just like that!" Polly's little hands dropped flat in
her lap. "I heard a great noise, and felt myself going, and I
remember I clutched hold of Uncle Gregory. Then I did n't know
another thing till I woke up over in that corner. See that bed
with the dark-haired little girl in it, the third from the end?
That was my cot."

"Was your leg broken?" asked David, in a most interested tone.

"Yes, my leg was broken, and my hip was _discolated_ (Polly
sometimes twisted her long words a little), and my ankle was
hurt, and two ribs, and, oh, lots of things! Doctor says now that
he really did n't think I'd ever walk again--I mean, without
crutches."