David grew strong steadily, but not so fast that Polly was allowed to see him as soon as they both wished. When, at last, she went up for a brief ten minutes, she was brimful of pleasure.
"I want to know about the day you ran after Dr. Dudley for me," began David, almost at once; "the time I was so sick. The Doctor said you had a race, and enjoyed it. I don't see how you could enjoy running your legs off for me; but it was awfully good of you."
"Why," cried Polly, "it was n't I that ran—at least, not much; it was Lone Star."
"Lone Star?" gasped David. "Polly! Do tell me quick!"
"I am telling you," she laughed. "Lone Star, Colonel Gresham's beautiful horse, did the running—the trotting, I mean—why, David! What's the matter?"
The boy's eyes had grown big with excitement, and his cheeks were bright.
"Go on!" he breathed.
"That's about all. I saw I was n't going to make the Doctor hear, and Colonel Gresham was right out there, and I told him how —sick you were, and asked him to catch the Doctor. I never thought of his taking me; but before I knew it I was in the buggy, and we were flying down the street like mad! Oh, I do wish you could have seen Lone Star go!"
"Did he know it was I?" whispered David excitedly.
"Lone Star—know?" and Polly's forehead puckered. "Oh," she brightened, "you mean the Colonel! Why, yes, of course, he did! That is, I told him—no, I did n't tell him much, though, till we were coming home. But what difference does it make?"