Polly of the Hospital Staff

Polly of the Hospital Staff

Emma C. Dowd

5.0
Comment(s)
26
View
17
Chapters

Polly of the Hospital Staff by Emma C. Dowd

Polly of the Hospital Staff Chapter 1 No.1

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' stories."

"I know," and Miss Lucy's face grew grave. "We shall miss Polly."

"When's she goin' home?" The blue eyes went suddenly anxious.

"Oh, not until next week!" was the cheerful response. "There'll be time for plenty of stories before then."

"A-h-h!" wailed little French Aimee, from the opposite cot. "Pollee go?"

"Why, yes," smiled Miss Lucy, with a quick turn. "Polly is almost well, and well little girls don't stay at the hospital, you know. Pretty soon you will go home, too."

The nurse passed on, but Aimee's face remained clouded. Next week-no Pollee!

Other ears besides Aimee's had overheard the news about Polly. Maggie O'Donnell and Otto Kriloff stared at each other in dismay. Why, Polly had been there long before they came! It had never occurred to them that Polly could leave.

When Miss Lucy reached Maggie's bed, the little girl was softly crying.

"I-don't-want-Polly to go!" she sobbed.

"Dear me! Dear me!" exclaimed the nurse, "this will never do!" Then, listening, she whispered, "Hark! Who is that skipping along the hall?"

At the instant, the door opened, and a little girl, her brown eyes shining with pleasure, her cheeks pink as the poppies on the front lawn, and her yellow curls all tossed and tumbled by the wind, whirled into the ward.

"Oh, Polly!" passed, a breath of joy, from lip to lip.

"I've had a lovelicious time!" she began.

"We went 'way down to Rockmoor!-Did you ever ride in an auto, Miss Lucy?"

The nurse nodded happily. It was good to have Polly back.

"Seems's if you'd never come!" broke out Elsie Meyer. "I've been waitin' an' waitin' for a story."

"I'll have my things off in a minute," responded Polly, "and you'll say my story is worth waiting for."

"A new one?"

"Brand-new!"

"Where'd you get it?"

"A lady told me-a lady Dr. Dudley took me to see. It's a 'Cherry-Pudding Story.'-Oh, you just wait till I put my coat and hat away, and change my dress!" Polly danced off, the young nurse following with a soft sigh. What should she do without this little sunshine-maker!

The ward was wide awake when Polly returned. The few that were far enough along to be up and dressed had left their cots, and were grouped around Elsie Meyer's bed, each solicitous for the closest seat to the story-teller.

"Everybody ready?" questioned Polly, settling herself comfortable in the little rocker. Then she popped up. "You need this chair, Leonora, more than I do;" and before the lame girl had time to protest the exchange had been made.

"Polly, talk loud, so I can hear!" piped up a shrill voice in the corner of the ward.

"Sure I will, Linus," was the cherry response. "You must n't miss a word of the 'Cherry-Pudding story.'"

"Once upon a time," she began, in the beautiful old way that all fanciful stories should begin; and not the breath of a rustle broke the sound of her gentle voice, while she narrated the fortunes of the young king who loved stories so much that he decided to wed only the girl that would write him a fresh one every day.

As the little people followed the outcome of the royal edict, their interest grew intense, for Polly was a real story-teller, sweeping her listeners along with the narrative until all else was forgotten.

When after long despairing days, young King Cerise found his future queen in the very last girl, one who lived her stories instead of writing them, and was as charming and good as she was clever, the small folks became radiantly glad, and the tale drew to a happy end with the king and queen living beautiful stories and cherry puddings in every home all over the land.

Nobody spoke as Polly stopped. Then little Linus, away over in the corner, piped up:-

"I wasn't some cherry pudding!"

Than made them laugh, and set the tongues going.

"Aw, ye'll have ter wait till ye git home!" returned Cornelius O'Shaughnessy.

"Why will he? Why can't we all have some, Miss Lucy?"

The rest fairly held their breath at Elsie Meyer's boldness.

The nurse laughed. "Perhaps," she began slowly,-"mind, I don't say for sure, but only perhaps,-if you'll all live a brave, patient, cheerful story, with never a bit of a whine in it, from now until to-morrow noon,-well, who knows what may happen!"

"A cherry pudding may!" cried the irrepressible Elsie. "Oh, Miss Lucy, I won't whine or cry, no matter how bad you hurt my hip when you dress it-not the teentiest bit! See if I do!"

"Will Polly make up our stories for us?" queried Leonora Hewitt.

"Why, Miss Lucy has made one for all of us," laughed Polly. "We are to be brave and patient and not make a fuss about anything, and help everybody else to be happy-is n't that what you meant, Miss Lucy?"

"Oh," replied the little lame girl, "guess that'll be a hard kind!"

"Beautiful stories are not often easy to live," smiled the young nurse; "but let's see which of us can live the best one."

"Polly will!" cried Maggie O'Donnell and Otto Kriloff together.

Continue Reading

Other books by Emma C. Dowd

More

You'll also like

Abandoned Ex-Wife: Now Untouchable

Abandoned Ex-Wife: Now Untouchable

Tao Yaoyao
5.0

My five-year-old daughter was dying in the ICU, her heartbeat replaced by the continuous, electronic scream of a flatline. I gripped her cold hand, my throat sealed shut by a terror so absolute I couldn't even cry out. I dialed my husband Grayson's private number, the one reserved only for me and his assistants. He declined the call instantly. A second later, a text buzzed against my palm: "In a meeting. Do not disturb. Stop calling." Five miles away, Grayson was at a luxury gala, adjusting his silk tie and laughing with Belle Escobar. He told her I was just being "dramatic" and using our daughter's "fever" as an excuse to avoid the event. He had no idea Effie's heart had already stopped. When I finally reached our penthouse, soaked from the rain and carrying Effie's small socks in a plastic bag, Grayson didn't even look at me. He snapped at me for ruining the hardwood floors and asked if I'd left Effie with the nanny just to "feel sorry for myself." Three days later, while I buried our daughter in a small, lonely ceremony, Grayson was at the Hamptons. Belle posted a photo of him golfing with the caption: "A mental health day with the boys." He didn't even attend the funeral, but he returned home demanding I clear out Effie's room to make a study for Belle's son. The injustice burned through me until there was nothing left. I swallowed a handful of sleeping pills, desperate to join my daughter. But instead of the darkness, I woke up to blinding lights and the scent of Grayson's expensive cologne. I was standing in a ballroom, wearing a blue silk dress I had already burned. Above me, a banner read: "Happy 5th Birthday Kaiden & Effie." I was back, exactly one year before the tragedy. This time, I wasn't going to be the grieving wife. I was going to be their worst nightmare.

One Night With My Billionaire Boss

One Night With My Billionaire Boss

Nathaniel Stone
4.5

I woke up on silk sheets that smelled of expensive cedar and cold sandalwood, a world away from my cramped apartment in Brooklyn. Beside me lay Ezra Gardner—my boss, the billionaire CEO of Gardner Holdings, and the man who could end my career with a snap of his fingers. He didn’t offer an apology for the night before; instead, he looked at me with terrifying clarity and proposed a cold, calculated business arrangement. "Marriage. It stabilizes the board and solves the PR crisis before it begins." He dressed me in archival Chanel and sent me home in his Maybach, but my life was already falling apart. My boyfriend, Irving, claimed he had passed out early, yet his location data placed him at my best friend’s apartment until three in the morning. When I tried to run, I realized Ezra was already ten steps ahead, tracking my movements and uncovering the secret I’d spent twenty years hiding: my connection to the powerful Senator Grimes. I was trapped between a CEO who treated me like a line item on a quarterly report and a boyfriend who had been using me while sleeping with my closest friend. I felt like a pawn in a game I didn't understand, wondering why a man like Ezra would walk up forty flights of stairs on a broken leg just to make sure I was safe. "Showtime, Mrs. Gardner." Standing on the red carpet in a gown that cost more than my life, I watched my cheating ex-boyfriend’s face turn pale as Ezra claimed me in front of the world. I wasn't just an assistant anymore; I was a weapon, and it was time to burn their world down.

Chapters
Read Now
Download Book