ould
have insisted it was entirely Miss Lucy's work; but as long as
happiness was there nobody cared whence it came.

David Collins was a decided acquisition; the ward agreed in that.

"He can tell stories almost as well as Polly," declared Elsie
Meyer to a knot of her chosen intimates.

"Not qui-te," objected loyal little Brida, glancing over her
shoulder to make sure that they were far enough away from the ears
of the boy under discussion.

"I did n't say quite," returned Elsie, in a lover voice, "I said
almost. 'Course, nobody tells 'em so good as Polly--she's
'special!"

"But David is a dandy fine feller!" asserted Cornelius. "He can
play ball, reg'lar baseball! A college feller on a team showed
him how!"

"Wisht I could play ball," sighed Leonora Hewitt, a bit
dejectedly.

"Girls don't play baseball!" laughed Cornelius.

"They do some kinds anyway--I used to!" And again Leonora
sighed. It is hard to be shut out from things when you are only
ten.

"I would n't care, if I were you," comforted Elsie, in a way
that showed her to be an unconscious pupil of her adored Polly.
She threw an arm around the little girl who the Doctor feared
would never walk again on two strong feet. "There's lots of
things better than playing ball."

"What?" demanded Cornelius, with more curiosity than
thoughtfulness.

Elsie flashed him a look that meant, "How can you?" for
Cornelius had been able to throw aside his own helps to walking.
Then she answered triumphantly, "Playing with dolls--for one
thing!"

"Dolls!" echoed Cornelius, laughing "Ho, ho! Dolls!"

"Well, I don't care, they are! Ain't they, Miss Lucy?"

"What is it, Elsie?" smiled the nurse across from her desk. "I
was n't noticing."

"Dolls--ain't dolls more fun that playing ball?"

"That depends," answered Miss Lucy. "Cornelius or Moses would no
doubt enjoy a game of ball better than the prettiest doll that
ever was made; but you and Leonora and Corinne, for instance,
would be unusual little girls if you did n't like dolls best."

Elsie and Cornelius faced each other with good-natured laughter.

"But I hain't got any doll," lamented Leonora.

"Nary a ball!" declared Cornelius, striking his reast
dramatically. "So we're even!"

"My doll's 'most worn out," mourned Elsie. "Guess it will be
quite by the time I get home, with Rosie and Esther bangin' it
round."

"I want my dolly! I want my dolly!" piped up little Isabel.
"Where's my dolly?"

"Oh!