"And I judge by your voice that the number of roses needed was not large." She laughed softly. "Only eleven." "About as I guessed! I hope the rest of the birthday matched the roses. This is very beautiful." His fingers gave it a caressing touch. "Oh, I had a lovelicious birthday! I really had two of them!" "Two? That sounds interesting. Can't you sit down here and tell me about it?" "If I wouldn't be late to school," she hesitated. "I don't know what time it is." He pulled a watch from his pocket, and held it up for her view. "Oh, I've twenty-seven minutes! I can stay a little while." She took the chair beside him, and recounted the story of the intermediate entertainment, intuitively omitting the part which Ilga played. That it was appreciated by her listener Polly could not doubt. "You must come and see me again," he invited, as she rose to go. "I think you may do me more good than the Doctor." "Oh, no!" she objected softly; "I couldn't do anything better than father! He cures everybody." The young man smiled doubtfully. "May I ask who 'father' is? Not Dr. Dudley?" "Why, yes, sir. I s'posed you knew. I'm Polly Dudley, Dr. Dudley's little girl." "Are you! Well, Miss Polly, I am surely glad to have made your acquaintance." He ran hurriedly through his pockets. "I had a card somewhere. Probably it was seized with the rest of my belongings. That seems to be a way they have at hospitals--hide a man's things so he can't get at them! Never mind, I haven't forgotten my name. I am Floyd Westwood of New York." "That's a lovelicious name," Polly told him frankly. The corners of his mouth curled up. "I hope you will not fail to come often," he told her, as she put her little hand in his for good-bye. "Oh, I'll come!" she promised. "But it's father that will cure you." "I hope so, but," he added soberly, "it doesn't look much like it at present." Polly's eyes went troubled. Perhaps the other read her silence, for he said brightly:-- "Now that I know the Doctor's little girl, it may be I shall have more confidence in the Doctor's assurances." "Oh, if he says you'll get well," she laughed, "you needn't worry a single mite! Father doesn't ever lie to people." "That sounds pleasant and mighty reassuring. I am glad you came in. I was getting blue."