Just then Angela and Connie appeared in the doorway.
“May we come in? How’s the invalid?” Connie asked.
“Oh, hello. Of course come in. I’m awfully glad to see you. I am feeling very fine this morning,” responded Polly.
Angela was looking dolefully at the big lump the bandaged foot made under the covers, and her eyes were misty.
“Polly,” she began, “can you ever forgive—”
“Angela, you’re going to say something about those slippers, and if you do—” Polly interrupted threateningly.
“All right, I won’t, but I’ll think of it for the rest of my life.”
After a few minutes of excited conversation the girls left—Lois and Betty for the gym and Angela and Connie for the schoolroom to practice songs with the rest.
Polly, left alone, retied and patted the green and white ribbon Lois had given her; then she tossed and turned and fretted until the doctor arrived an hour later. He declared the ankle greatly improved, but he did not like the patient’s nervous condition, and to Polly’s plea to be carried to the gym, he gave a decided “No.”
Miss King was all sympathy, and offered to read aloud, tell stories, or, in fact, do anything to amuse her heartbroken little patient, but Polly refused to be comforted.