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"She's Brida's kitty, and we were going to give Miss Lucy a birthday surprise." A faint smile flickered on the young woman's face. The she made a grab at the now frightened kitten; but the little creature slipped from her hand, and jumping to the floor dared towards the hall. "Oh, me dirlin' kitty!" wailed Brida. "She'll be losted! Oh, Polly, ketch her!"
After awhile, however, instead of hurrying, she was obliged to stop now and then on a corner, to catch the breeze coming up from the sea, for she felt strangely faint. When she finally trudged up Hospital Hill, the air grew cool all at once, and she quite forgot herself for thinking of Brida and Miss Lucy. At the door of the ward she paused for a peep. The nurse was not in sight.
"It will have to be and old one," was the smiling response, for Polly's supply of cat tales the kind which the little Irish girl invariably wanted was limited. "I don't care what 't is," whined Brida, "anything 'bout a kitty. Oh, don't I wisht I had me own darlin' Popover right here in me arms! Why don't yer begin?" urged the fretful voice, for Polly sat gazing at the polished floor.
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