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Updated: May 11, 2025
"You don't mean me to cover up the velvet, do you?" asked Polly, aghast at the suggestion. "Perhaps Anne will sleep better if the flowers are out of sight," remarked Mrs. Brewster, softly, but with amused sarcasm. "You-all mought better do that, Miss Pollee, cuz them colors will git sun-streaked in this bright light," added Sary.
"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.
"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?"
Polly stood for an instant, dumb with surprise and dismay; then she took a step forward. "Good-bye, Miss Sniffen!" she said in a low, tense voice, and passed swiftly out into the sunshine. She walked along, regardless of anything besides her own tumultuous thoughts, until, as she was turning in at her home entrance, she heard the old familiar call, "Pollee, Pollee, Pollee-e-e!"
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