"I thought it might tire him to go fast," murmured Polly, apologetically, as she joined Leonora at the window.
"He'll get all out of breath!" worried Leonora. "Just see him run!"
"He is n't thinking of himself," Polly responded. "It's just like him! But his heart is pretty strong now, I guess. Though Doctor told him to be careful."
David returned a little pale, and Polly made him lie down on the couch.
He did not seem inclined to talk, and the girls waited at the window, conversing in low tones over their dolls. By and by Dr. Dudley came up the walk, and Polly ran to open the door for him.
The physician acknowledged the attention with a grave smile, and then went directly to the telephone, calling for Miss Batterson.
David sat up. The girls listened breathlessly.
Presently they heard arrangements being made for the nurse to go to the Colonel at once, and they gathered from what was said that David's great-uncle was ill with typhoid fever, and that the Doctor had ordered him to bed.
"He has kept up too long," regretted Dr. Dudley, as he hung the receiver on its hook. "As it is he'll have to go through a course of fever. He is furious at the prospect, but it can't be helped.
"I'm so sorry," mourned Polly.