CHAPTER XXVI. A DOOR AJAR
Just a week from the time Dr. Mead, the specialist, was first expected, he came. He was a tall, broad-shouldered man with kind gray eyes, and a cheerful smile. Pollyanna liked him at once, and told him so.
“You look quite a lot like MY doctor, you see,” she added engagingly.
“YOUR doctor?” Dr. Mead glanced in evident surprise at Dr. Warren, talking with the nurse a few feet away. Dr. Warren was a small, brown-eyed man with a pointed brown beard.
“Oh, THAT isn't my doctor,” smiled Pollyanna, divining his thought. “Dr. Warren is Aunt Polly's doctor. My doctor is Dr. Chilton.”
“Oh-h!” said Dr. Mead, a little oddly, his eyes resting on Miss Polly, who, with a vivid blush, had turned hastily away.
“Yes.” Pollyanna hesitated, then continued with her usual truthfulness. “You see, I wanted Dr. Chilton all the time, but Aunt Polly wanted you. She said you knew more than Dr. Chilton, anyway about—about broken legs like mine. And of course if you do, I can be glad for that. Do you?”
A swift something crossed the doctor's face that Pollyanna could not quite translate.
“Only time can tell that, little girl,” he said gently; then he turned a grave face toward Dr. Warren, who had just come to the bedside.