"And you're not lame a bit?" David returned incredulously.

"Not a mite, not the least mite!" Polly assured him.

"Then perhaps I shall get well," the boy began brightly.

"Of course you will!" broke in Dr. Dudley's happy voice.

He put his hand on the lad's wrist, and stood for a moment, noting
his pulse.

"It does n't seem to hurt you to have visitors," he smiled; "but
they must n't stay too long. Say good-bye, Polly."

"Will you bring her again tomorrow?" invited David timidly. "And
let her stay long enough to tell me a story?"

"I should n't wonder," the Doctor promised. And they left the
boy smiling as he had not smiled since he had been in the
hospital.

After that, Polly went every day to see David, until, one morning,
Dr. Dudley told her that he was not quite well enough to have a
visitor. She had come to look forward to her quiet talks with the
blue-eyed lad as the happiest portion of the whole day, for Miss
Hortensia Price still stayed in the convalescent ward, and the
Doctor had been too busy to take her out in his automobile. Elsie
and Brida and Aimee and the rest were all good comrades, yet none
of them possessed David's powers of quick comprehension. Often