ous name," Polly told him frankly.

The corners of his mouth curled up.

"I hope you will not fail to come often," he told her, as she put her
little hand in his for good-bye.

"Oh, I'll come!" she promised. "But it's father that will cure you."

"I hope so, but," he added soberly, "it doesn't look much like it at
present."

Polly's eyes went troubled.

Perhaps the other read her silence, for he said brightly:--

"Now that I know the Doctor's little girl, it may be I shall have more
confidence in the Doctor's assurances."

"Oh, if he says you'll get well," she laughed, "you needn't worry a
single mite! Father doesn't ever lie to people."

"That sounds pleasant and mighty reassuring. I am glad you came in. I
was getting blue."

"Perhaps you were 'scared,' like Magdalene," she chuckled. "I do wish
you could see her! She is the funniest little German girl! She had
appendicitis, and the doctors sent for father. He knew right off she
couldn't live without an operation, and he told her father and mother,
and then he went and talked to her. He didn't tell her she'd die, for
she's only six years old; but he said she couldn't ever go out to
play, or have any more good times, unless they took her to the
hospital to cure her. And she looked up at him, just as sober, and
said, 'I'm scared! I'm scared!'--not a thing else! They brought her up
here in the ambulance, and she never said a word all the way. But when
she got downstairs, where there were lots of doctors and nurses,
father happened to go near her, and she looked straight up into his
face, and said, 'I'm scared! I'm scared!' Poor little thing! I should
think she would have been; but she is so funny."

"Did she come out all right?"

"Oh, yes, of course!--father performed the operation. The next day
when he saw her she was looking as happy as could be, and he asked her
if she was scared, and she didn't speak, only just shook her head this
way, and grinned." Polly's curls waved vigorously. "After a few days
she grew worse, and they had a consultation, and three or four doctors
were there. Father thought she looked frightened, and he asked her if
she was scared, and she bowed her head hard--oh, she is so funny! I
just carried her one of my roses, and I'm sure she liked it, but she
didn't say a single word."

"I have a fellow-feeling for that little girl," smiled Mr. Westwood.
"I know all right what it is to be 'scared,' and it isn't pleasant."

As Polly's lips