At ten o’clock Doodles was taken to the hospital and carried directly to his little white room. Everything was novel and pretty to the boy’s eyes, but prettiest of all was the white-capped, smiling nurse who received him. He was undressed at once and put into a soft bed, where he had two little pillows at his head. He watched the nurse as she hung some of his clothes in the white wardrobe and folded others and laid them away in the little white bureau. How strange it seemed to go to bed right in the middle of the day while the sun was shining!

Presently the nurse brought writing materials, and began to ask him questions,—where he lived, where he was born, his age, his mother’s maiden name, her native town, and many others. Finally she inquired:—

“What doctor sent you here?”

“No doctor. Polly Dudley told Mr. Gaylord that she thought her father could make me walk, and so he wanted mother to let me go to see him, and that’s how it came about.”

“Then I shall have to put it down ‘Dr. Polly,’ shan’t I?”

Doodles chuckled.

“It isn’t the first time she has sent us a patient,” the young woman went on. “Polly is her father’s right-hand man.”

“I think she is lovely,” returned Doodles.

“She is,” was the emphatic assent.

At the moment another nurse brought a small tray and a cup of broth. She swung the top of a table directly over the bed, and set the tray upon it, to the delight of the little patient who had never seen a table of that sort.

The broth was hot and good, and Doodles sat, propped up with pillows, and sipped and sipped until it was every drop gone. Then, as he was alone, he fell to admiring the cup. It was of delicate white china, with a handle on each side, and a wreath of pansies around it. He wondered if the pansies made the broth taste better.

From the cup his eyes roved round the room. How dainty it was! And light! So different from the dim bedroom at home! The one large window at the end was hung with three curtains,—a very dark shade, a light shade, and drapery of white muslin looped at either side. Through the clear glass he could see a wide sweep of blue sky, and a few trees in their autumn dress. How beautiful it was! He was still gazing, when he heard a soft “Hullo!” He turned quickly, to see Polly Dudley in the doorway.

“How do you do?” she smiled. “I am so glad you have come! I should have been dreadfully disappointed if you hadn’t!”

“You would?” returned Doodles in surprised tone.

“Of course,” laughed Polly. “Because I want you to walk and run as I can.”

“Oh, if I only could!” Doodles replied. “But,” a bit wistfully, “your father isn’t sure.”

“Almost, I guess,” nodded Polly. “If he hadn’t been he wouldn’t have urged you to come. My, I know what it is not to walk!”

Doodles looked at her in amazement. “You?” he cried.

“Yes. I was hurt, and couldn’t walk for ever so long. I know!” Her curls waved emphatically.

“Did you have an operation?”

“Oh, yes! That isn’t anything to mind,—you don’t know it!”

“No,” Doodles smiled—and shivered under the bedclothes.

They talked of many things,—Caruso, Lilith Brooks, Polly’s school, and the new hospital which was building.

Polly stayed until the nurse came, the one with dark hair and eyes, whom they called Miss Eden. Doodles liked her very much, her smile was so quick and so cheering.

After a while she brought him another cup of broth. It looked the same, she laughed, but tasted different. Doodles found it just as good as the first. He wondered why they did not give him something to eat with it, yet he asked no questions.

One nurse or another came often, but some of the time the small patient was alone. Once he went to sleep, and awoke to see Polly at his side, a big yellow chrysanthemum in her hand.

“How beautiful!” he smiled.

“I hoped you would like it. It is almost as good as the sun,” she laughed. “That will be gone before long, but this will stay.” She put it into his hand.

“Is it for me?” he asked in surprise.

“Certainly. A girl gave it to me at school, and I said, ‘Now I have something to carry to Doodles!’”

“I don’t see why you should think of me,” he said musingly.

“Because lie-abed folks need to be thought of more than run-about folks, and besides—I like you!” She laughed, and skipped away.

At the tea hour came a cup of bouillon—that was all. Suddenly Doodles understood. He remembered hearing a woman tell Granny, while his mother was at the hospital, that when she had her operation they gave her nothing to eat for a whole day beforehand,—nothing but beef tea and mutton broth. Yes, that was it! It made the morrow seem nearer. Then he began again to think of what the other woman, Mrs. Corrigan, had said, the dreadful thing that had haunted him ever since. He could not finish his supper.

The room grew dusky. Even the golden chrysanthemum could not brighten the blackness. He thought of the kitchen at home and wished he were there. Of course, he wanted to walk; but, oh, if Mrs. Corrigan hadn’t said it! He closed his eyes, and repeated his evening prayer, trying to trust everything to the One who he now felt sure was answering his petitions; but—he could see the woman, just as she had stood against the dim hallway, hands on her hips; he could see the horror in her face, the uprolled eyes, as she told about it! He turned his face to the pillow, yet he could not shut her out.

Presently a new nurse appeared, and put a little thermometer under his tongue and timed his pulse by her watch. When she went away she told him to go to sleep.

He endeavored to do as she bade him; but sleep would not come,—only the picture of that woman, her hands upon her hips. Her words beat through his brain! They would not stop! He was still wide awake when the nurse came softly in. She opened the window a little wider and put up a screen to shield him from the wind, for the night was chilly. She laid her cool hand on his forehead, and asked if he felt lonely.

“Oh, no!” he answered.

She bent over and kissed him, and then went out.

The speaking-tube in the hall was beyond his sight. Otherwise he would have seen Mrs. Fairfax go there and push the bell button, and if he had been near enough he would have heard her say:—

“Is Polly there? May she come up for a little while, please?”

When Polly reached the head of the stairs the nurse was waiting for her.

“Doodles seems troubled about something. His pulse is away up, and he looks as if he would never go to sleep. Find out what it is, if you can, and tell him there is nothing for him to be afraid of. Perhaps he is homesick; but you will do better than I. He is not acquainted with me.”

Doodles smiled a welcome when Polly turned on the light.

“The flower couldn’t keep away the dark, could it?” she laughed.

The boy returned a plaintive little no.

“Did they give you a good supper?”

“Yes, it looked nice. I wasn’t hungry.”

“You ought to have been. I was!”

Doodles smiled. Polly was so bright, as if no gloom could ever touch her. Even Mrs. Corrigan would not be able to frighten her. He wished he were as brave. If only she hadn’t said that—that awful thing! Could it be true? Doodles shut his teeth hard—through Polly’s chatter the words rang and rang!

“They won’t let you have anything to eat to-morrow,” Polly was saying, “or to drink either; but you won’t care. I didn’t a bit. You don’t worry about to-morrow, do you? You mustn’t, because there isn’t anything to dread, not a single thing! Dr. Keith will examine your heart, just as father did. But you didn’t mind that, did you? And he may take your blood-pressure—that isn’t anything! It makes your arm feel funny for a minute—that’s all!”

“Who is Dr. Keith?”

“Perhaps you haven’t seen him. He’s ever so nice. He is the one that gives the anÆsthetic.”

“Oh!” said Doodles weakly. “Is that the—the ether?” It was out—the terrible word! He had meant not to speak it.

“I don’t think they’ll give you ether—”

“Not give me ether!” Doodles’s voice was an amazed whisper.

“I don’t think so—or not much. Anyway you won’t know it! Dr. Keith will give you gas first.”

“Gas?” repeated Doodles with a puzzled pucker of his forehead.

“Yes, laughing gas,—a new kind, I guess. It isn’t bad to take. It makes your head feel whirly inside, that’s all. I don’t know how ether feels, but they say it is—stuffy—stuffycating.” Polly still stumbled over an occasional long word.

“Oh, yes, that’s what Mrs. Corrigan said!”

“Who?”

“A woman I heard telling about it. She said she’d never, never take it again, she’d rather die in purgatory seventeen times!”

Polly giggled. “That’s a good many! I guess she didn’t go to an up-to-date hospital. Father makes everything so easy for people. Has that worried you—what she said?”

“A little,” Doodles nodded.

“Well, you needn’t worry any more, for you won’t mind the gas. You can breathe just as easy as you can now.”

“I’m so glad!” murmured Doodles. A mountain weight slid away from him.

“I must go, or you won’t have any chance to sleep,” Polly laughed.

“Thank you for coming! Thank you so much!” He caught her hand and squeezed it.

“Good-night!” she said gayly, and threw him a kiss as she turned off the light.

“Poor little fellow!” crooned Mrs. Fairfax, when Polly told what she had learned. “That’s why he left his supper. I’ll get him something now; he will sleep better for it.”

When she brought the steaming cup, Doodles sipped it eagerly, every drop, and in five minutes he was fast asleep.

It was morning when he awoke, and the first thing he saw was a tall glass vase of magnificent pink roses. Where did they come from?

“Those are your breakfast,” Mrs. Fairfax smiled, appearing with a bowl of water and some towels.

“Did Polly give them to me?”

“No, a lady brought them late last evening.” She handed him a card.

“Oh, Miss Fleming! That’s exactly like her! How sweet they are!”

“She said she had just heard that you were here, and so came down last night that you might have them early this morning.”

Nothing could have taken Doodles’s mind so completely from the ordeal ahead as the beautiful flowers and the thought of Miss Fleming’s coming to Fair Harbor, at that hour, expressly to give him pleasure.

Polly ran in to bring a bright good-morning, and was given a bunch of the long-stemmed beauties.

“Are there any other children here?” Doodles asked, just as she was going.

“Yes, nine; three girls and six boys. One of the girls has her operation at ten.”

“This morning?”

“Yes.”

“Oh! please will you carry her some of my roses?”

Polly hesitated. “You won’t have many left, if you keep giving them away,” she demurred. “She can have some of mine.”

“No, no! Take these! I’ll have enough.”

So three more buds were chosen from the vase, and Doodles happily watched them go.

The lad’s idea of the operating room had been gained from Mrs. Corrigan’s description,—“A horrud place down in th’ basemint—ugh! ut sure gives me th’ crapes ivery time I think iv ut!” So he was totally unprepared for the large, beautiful room on the same floor, finished all in white, with sunshine streaming in at the windows; and its glass-topped tables, their jars and bowls of shimmering crystal filled with liquids of bewitching colors—oh, it was so different from what he had imagined! And he discovered, too, that the dreaded table itself was more like a high couch, where he had a little pillow for his head and was made very comfortable indeed. The smiling man in spotless white, who gave him a cordial greeting—Doodles was sure it must be Dr. Keith, who Polly had said was “nice.”

Things went along much as Polly had told him, and presently a little frilled white cap was put over his hair, and every tiny ringlet tucked in. Meantime he was surprised and amused at the appearance of others in the room. The head nurse, Miss Price,—he was certain it must be she,—was all in white from top to toe, only her dark, happy eyes being left uncovered. The younger nurse was in white, too; but her face was not hidden, and she smiled out at him from the curious white “sunbonnet” on her head. He wondered why they dressed in such a queer fashion—it was like the masquerade parties that Leona had told him about.

While he was wondering, a damp cloth was laid over his eyes,—“To keep them from smarting,” the pleasant voice of the Doctor said.

“Now I am going to give you some laughing gas,” Dr. Keith went on, “so you won’t know anything about it. Breathe easily—that is all!”

He did as he was bidden, and found it to be just as Polly had declared; whatever it was over his nose and mouth was not uncomfortable, and he could breathe as well as ever. Something began to whirl in his head.

“Feel a little bit sleepy?” asked the Doctor.

“Not sleepy, only whirly,” was the answer.

The whirl went a little higher, almost to the edge of his hair—then there was a rustle at his side. “They can’t put me to sleep, after all!” Doodles thought, and opened his eyes. He saw an electric light fixture—it looked like the one in his little white room! Somebody said—it sounded like Miss Eden:—

“Do you know me?”

He looked. It was Miss Eden! He was in his own little white bed!

Could—could IT be over? He voiced his thought at once.

“Certainly it is,” she smiled.

He drew a long, happy breath. “It doesn’t seem a minute!” he said.

“More than an hour,” was the reply.

She pulled down the dark shade, and he had a short nap. When he awoke he felt so glad, glad, glad! He wondered if he were going to walk. Then he slept again.

The next time he opened his eyes Dr. Dudley was there. He took his hand, and told him that everything looked very favorable. Doodles knew that meant that the Doctor thought he would walk. His responsive smile was joyful.

On Thursday Polly came in for a minute.

“It wasn’t bad, was it?” she laughed.

“Not a bit,” he answered merrily. “There wasn’t a thing to dread, not a single thing! It was beautiful.”

In the afternoon his mother and Dorothy came to see him. His mother’s eyes were full of tears when she kissed him. He did not see why, for he was getting well fast. He did not feel like crying, he wanted to laugh.

At the end of the week Miss Fleming surprised him with a flying call and a box of red roses and ferns. He did not keep many of the flowers for himself; he persuaded Polly to carry them to the other patients. And then he picked out the very prettiest buds that were left in his vase and coaxed her to take them downstairs.

Those were happy days for Doodles. Everybody was so kind. Polly spent many an hour at his side, talking, telling stories, or singing. His mother and Blue came once a week, and the Gaylords and the Flemings frequently. And at the bedtime hour, if Polly were not there, Miss Eden would tell him wonderful fairy tales, often repeating his favorite one, of which he never tired,—about “King Ingewall’s daughter” who ferried the river on the backs of her “little grey geese,” and who finally came to the end of her troubles, as every good princess should.

One tiny fear, however, would sometimes creep in to spoil his joy,—what if, after all, he should never walk! Thus far he had been lifted from bed to chair, and back again, much as before the operation, and he wondered when he was to try his feet.

One morning he was terrified to see Dr. Dudley with a pair of crutches. Were these to be the end of his hopes?

“Only for a while, little man,” explained the Doctor, answering the pitiful question in the boy’s eyes. “They will try your strength, and at the same time keep you from strain. Suppose we see how they go!”

To the surprise of Doodles, he found that he could use the crutches very well, and he went across the room and back, breathlessly joyful.

“May I go down the hall?” he cried.

“Certainly. I want you to walk about.” And with a word of caution to the nurse, he waved the lad a gay good-bye.

That day held only pleasure for Doodles. Polly ran in several times. Dorothy was there in the afternoon, and before she went came Miss Fleming with Daphne and Blue.

“Hurrah, old feller! I knew you’d go it!” exclaimed Blue, swinging his cap in a cheer that threatened to be louder than his brother thought proper, and which his alarmed face brought to a sudden hush.

The merry party shortly went away, leaving only Daphne’s chrysanthemums and Dorothy’s nut cakes and Blue’s card to tell of the visit. The card pictured a pussy with a spring tail that kept wagging whenever the card was touched. The nurses all laughed when they saw it, and Doodles had it beside him while he ate a nut cake, the pink chrysanthemums helping to make it a gala feast.

The lad grew strong and stronger. Several times he stood upon his feet unaided. Still nothing was said about his walking, and there were hours when he grew sick with fear, lest he should never leave his crutches. Even this was better than anything he had ever known; but it seemed only the mockery of walking. Polly was the first to notice that his blithesomeness was fading.

Dr. Dudley came, one noon, as he sat by the window.

“Want to try it to-day?” he asked smilingly.

At first Doodles did not understand. Then he whitened.

“You mean?” he faltered.

“Yes, now is a good time!”

The boy arose, trembling.

“Don’t be afraid! You can do it!”

Still Doodles hesitated. What if he should fail! His heart—the Doctor’s heart would break with disappointment! He looked beyond Dr. Dudley, to where Miss Eden stood smiling him courage. His eyes passed along to the doorway—Polly was peeping round the corner! He put a foot forward—wavered—then the other!

“He’s walking! he’s walking!” piped Polly.

While Doodles reached the Doctor’s arms, and breathed ecstatically:—

“God has answered!”