One morning toward the middle of April Hannah took Polly to the hospital to say good-bye to sister. Polly had often been there before, but to-day she found the invalid in a cheerful little sitting-room, with the sun streaming in at the window and violets and daffodils upon the table. It was all just as Hannah had said it would be, even to the white-capped nurses, “as neat as wax,” bringing sister lovely things to eat. Sister had been in bed when Polly was there before, but now to the little girl’s delight, she found her sitting up in a wheeled-chair and looking cheerful and happy in a dainty pink flannel robe with bows of ribbon on it and lace about the throat and wrists. Miss Cissy had brought it to her the day before.
“Why, you’re almost well,” cried Polly joyously.
Sister smiled. “It looks like it, doesn’t it?” she replied and hugged her little visitor to her with a sort of hungry look in her patient eyes.
“I guess you’ll be walking around before I know it almost,” quoted Polly eagerly, and sister nodded her head.
“So you are going off into the country,” she said quickly. “What fun you’ll have and how beautiful it will be to see the flowers blossoming and to hear the birds singing. The fields will all be green and there’ll be dandelions in them and daisies, and you must hunt for four-leafed clovers. Why, you ought to be the best girl in the world with so much good coming to you. She tries to do right, doesn’t she, Hannah? I’m glad. I knew she would. You’ll remember, won’t you, Polly, that sister wants you to tell the truth always; never to tell a falsehood. And you must be kind and generous to every one and cheerful too. There’s a little young mother here who has the cunningest baby! A tiny thing only a few months old; and she has made up a song to sing to it that goes like this:
“‘Nice little babies never, never cry
Or when they do, we know the reason why.
Good little babies bravely bear a deal,
They hold their little heads up
No matter how they feel.’