"Oh! David?" Polly's first thought was for her friend.
"No, darling; David's all right. Dr. Dudley wants you to come down and sing to little Burton Leonard."
"Oh, of course I'll go!" Polly was wide awake now, and ready for anything.
She and Miss Lucy made speedy work of the dressing. Dr. Dudley was outside the door waiting for her, and quietly they went downstairs.
"I'll have to sing pretty soft; shan't I?" she questioned; "or it will disturb the other folks."
"Yes," the physician agreed. "But the room is rather isolated anyway, and the end of the wing. There's nobody near that there 's any danger of harming."
"Hullo!" came in a weak little voice, as Polly entered the doorway. "I told 'em I'd keep still of you'd sing to me; but I did n't b'lieve you'd come. I thought you'd be too sleepy."
The boy's mother was nervously smoothing his pillow, but at a word from the physician she retired to a seat beside the nurse.
A small electric light glowed at the other end of the apartment, and the night wind blew in at the open window, fluttering the leaves of a magazine that lay near. Polly felt awed by the hush of seriousness that seemed to fill the room. Although the Doctor spoke in his usual tone, the voices of the others scarcely rose above a whisper. She was glad when Dr. Dudley took her upon his knee. His encircling arm gave her instant cheer.
"Sing 'bout the 'Drummer Boy'!" begged the sick child, plaintively, and there was something in his tone that gave Polly a pang of fear. How different from his commands of the morning!