With a second surprise on her freckled face, the child pointed to a fat, red-cheeked woman, who was cooling herself with a big palm-leaf fan, in a basement doorway just beyond.
"Thank you," was the polite response, and Polly descended the short flight of steps into the bricked area.
The woman looked up expectantly.
"I'm Polly May, of the hospital staff," the little girl announced modestly, "and Brida would like her kitten, please."
The smile on Mrs. MacCarthy's face expanded into a big, joyous laugh.
"Does she now? Moira! Katie! D'ye here that? Brida's sint f'r her cat! Sure an' she moost be gittin' 'long rale well! An' ye're from th' hospital! Moira! Where's yer manners? Fetch th' little lady a chair! Katie, git a mug o' wather an' wan o' thim big crackers. Don't ye know how to trate comp'ny?"
In a minute Polly was seated, a china mug of water in one hand, and a crisp soda biscuit in the other, while the MacCarthy family circled around her, eager for news from the beloved Brida. There were only encouraging accounts to give of the little girl with the broken ankle; but they led to so many questions that Polly began to wonder how she should ever escape from these friendly people, when Popover herself solved the question.
The pretty black kitten suddenly appeared at the visitor's side, and at the first caressing word from Polly jumped into her lap.
"D' ye see that?" cried the delighted mother, and in the momentary excitement Polly arose and said that she must go.
Brida's sisters and small brother accompanied her for two blocks up the street, and then, with numerous good-byes, they left her to her long, wearisome walk.