"I b'lieve I'll run up and get that ginger-bread receipt of Mis' Moore's." The nasal voice broke in rudely upon the wondering.
Mrs. Bean shook the threads from her apron, and turned towards the door.
"If the kids come in and want something to eat, before I get back," she halted to say, "there's cookies in that little stone pot in the cupboard. Don't let 'em have but two apiece."
Wild thoughts, entirely foreign to Aunt Jane's directions, were flashing through Polly's mind.
If only there were time! She could try it! She must let Dr. Dudley and the others know!
"I shan't be gone long," her aunt was saying. "You stick to your work!"
Polly waited only to hear her walk the length of the hall above, and a door open and shut. The she cautiously stole out, and down the stairs, three long flights. Not more than a block away she had noticed a grocery. Groceries have telephones. She would run down there, and call up the hospital! At the outer door she paused an instant for one troubled look at her short skirt; but time was precious, and quickly she was speeding down the sidewalk.
"Hoh! Look at her!" jeered a big boy from across the street.
She did not even glance his way.
"Have you a telephone?" was her breathless inquiry of a man at the entrance of the little shop.