"What would you wish for, Pollykins?" asked Marraine, softly.

"Oh, lots of things!" said Polly, perching in her lap. "First--first of all, I wish that I could keep you here forever and forever, darling Marraine!"

"Well, you have me for six weeks every summer," laughed Marraine.

"But that isn't forever and forever," sighed Polly. "And mamma and dad and grandmamma and everybody else want you, too."

"Are you sure of that?" asked the lady, kissing the upturned face.

"Oh, very sure!" replied Polly, positively. "They say it's all nonsense for you to go to the hospital and take care of sick people. It's--it's something--I don't remember what."

"Stubborn pride?" suggested Marraine, with a merry sparkle in her eyes.

"Yes," said Polly, "that's just what grandmamma said. And stubborn pride is something bad; isn't it, Marraine?"

"Well, yes, it is," agreed Marraine,--"when it _is_ stubborn pride, Pollykins. But when one has empty hands and empty purse and--well, an empty life, too, Pollykins, it is not stubborn pride to try to fill them with work and care and pity and help."

"And that is what you do at the hospital, Marraine?"

"It is what I try to do, Pollykins. When my dear father died, and I found all his money gone, this beautiful home of yours opened its doors wide for me; dad, mamma, grandma, everybody begged me to come here. But--but it wasn't my real home or my real place."

"Oh, wasn't it, Marraine?" said Polly, sadly.

"No, dear. In our real home, our real place, G.o.d gives us work to do,--some work, even though it be only to bless and love. But there was no work for me here; and so I looked around, Pollykins, for my work and my place. If I had been very, _very_ good, I might have folded my b.u.t.terfly wings under a veil and habit, and been a nice little nun, like Sister Claudine."

"Oh, I wouldn't have liked that at all!" said Polly, with a shiver.

"I'm afraid I wouldn't either," was the laughing answer. "Still, it's a lovely, useful, beautiful life, little girl. And the next--the very next--best place and best work seemed to me the hospital, with the white gown and cap I can put off when I please; with sickness and sorrow and suffering to soothe and help; with little children holding out their arms to me, and old people calling to me in their pain, and dying eyes turning to me for hope and help. So I am nurse in a hospital, and out of it, too, when there is need. And it's not for stubborn pride, as grandma says, and no doubt thinks; but because I believe it to be my real work and my real place. Now get your dollar, and we'll be off to Jonah's junk shop to look for Aladdin's lamp."

And Polly danced off for her flower-wreathed hat, and the two were soon on their way down the narrow streets to the dull, dingy little shop near the water, where several customers were already looking over the curiously a.s.sorted stock, that on weekdays was spread far out on the sidewalk to attract pa.s.sers-by. Among these was a big, burly grey-haired man, whose bronzed face and easy-fitting clothes proclaimed the sailor.

"Why, Captain Carleton!" greeted Miss Stella, in some surprise.

"G.o.d bless my heart and soul!" was the hearty response, and the Captain held out both hands to the speaker. "This is sailor's luck, indeed! From what star of hope did you drop, Miss Stella?"

"Oh, I drop here for a holiday every summer!" she answered gaily. "I am glad to see you looking so well and strong again, Captain."

"Thanks to you, my dear lady! Under the great Master of life and death, thanks to you! I was about as far on the rocks as an old craft could be without going to pieces entirely. How that soft little hand of yours steered me into safe water I'll never forget, dear lady,--never forget.

And I was a tough patient, too; wasn't I?"

"Well, you did say things sometimes that were not--prayers," was the laughing answer.

And, chatting on pleasantly of the Captain's last winter in the hospital, they glanced over old Jonah's stock until something of interest caught the sailor's eye.

"By George! How in thunder did this get here?"

"A find,--a real find, Captain?" asked Miss Stella. "What is it?"

"A medal," he answered,--"a medal awarded for 'Brave and faithful service on the "Reina Maria" sixty years ago.'" (He was scanning the bronze disc as he spoke),--"'Juan Farley.' Good Lord! Yes, poor old Jack! I wonder how he lived and died? And what in Heaven's name is his medal doing here?"

"Perhaps Jonah can tell you," suggested Miss Stella; while Polly, whose bright eyes were searching for Aladdin's lamp, paused to listen.

"That ar medal?" said Jonah in answer to the Captain's questioning. "Let me think now! That ar medal--ticketed nineteen, isn't it?--was left here by a youngster. Now, what in thunder was his name? I'll have to look in my books to see."

And while he looked Captain Carleton explained his interest in his find.

"You see, my father was master and half owner of the 'Reina Maria,' though she was Spanish built and manned. But, luckily, Jack Farley, a first-cla.s.s sailor, was second mate. There was a mutiny aboard, and it would have been all up with my father and his chief officer if brave Jack had not smelled mischief in time, and put down the hatches on the scoundrels at the risk of his own life. Ship and cargo (it was a pretty valuable ship) were saved; and this medal, that bears the stamp of her then Spanish Majesty, was Jack's reward. My father always felt that he ought to have had something more; but the Spanish owners were close-fisted, so my old man had to content himself with helping Jack (who was a rather reckless sort of chap ash.o.r.e) in his own way. He got him out of many a tight place on the strength of that medal; and he would have looked out for him until the last, but he shipped on an East Indian, and drifted out of our reach. And this medal was left here by a boy, you say, my man?"

"Yes, sir" (Jonah had found his entry now),--"by a boy who said it was his: that it had been given him by an old sailor man who was dead; and he'd like to sell the medal now, for he wanted some money bad."

"Good!" said the old Captain, eagerly. "I'll give him his price. Who and where is the boy?"

"His name is Dan Dolan and he lives at Killykinick."

"Dan Dolan!" exclaimed Miss Stella.

"Oh, does he mean my--_my_ Dan, Marraine?" chirped Polly, breathlessly.

"What! You know the boy?" cried the old sailor, in amazement. "G.o.d bless me,--you!"

"Why, yes, we know him,--don't we, Pollykins?" said Miss Stella. "But what he is doing with the medal we can't say. We're certain he has it rightfully and honestly; and as soon as 'The Polly' (my cousin's yacht) can spread her broken wings, we are going to Killykinick. Suppose you come with us, and see the owner of the medal, and strike a bargain yourself?"

"By George, I will,--I will! A sail with you, Miss Stella, is a temptation I can not resist. And I must have the medal. I must see the boy, and hear how he got it. I'll buy it from him at his own price; and you shall negotiate the sale, dear lady!"

"Take care," said Miss Stella, with a merry sparkle in her eyes,--"take care how you do business with me, Captain! Remember how I drew upon you for the babies' ward last winter! I can fleece without mercy, as you know."

"Fleece as you please," was the hearty answer. "I can stand it, for that soft little hand of yours did work for this old man that he can never repay."

So the agreement was made; and Miss Stella, having invested in a queer, twisted candlestick, which she declared was quite equal to Aladdin's lamp, and Polly having decided to reserve her dollar for a neighboring candy store, the party at Jonah's junk shop separated, with the promise of meeting as soon as "The Polly" should be ready for a flight to Killykinick.

But that pleasant excursion was indefinitely postponed; for when Miss Stella reached Polly's home it was to find two priestly visitors awaiting her. One was an old friend, the present pastor of St. Mary's Church, near the Foresters' home; the other, tall, pale even through his bronze, anxious-eyed, she had never met.

"Father Rayburn, Miss Allen," was the pastor's brief introduction. "We have come to throw ourselves on your mercy, my dear young lady. You are here for your summer holiday, I know; and I hesitate to interrupt it. But Father Rayburn is in sore need of experienced service that you alone can give."

"You need a nurse?" asked Miss Stella.

"Yes." (It was Father Rayburn who answered.) "My brother--or perhaps I should say my brother-in-law, as that is really our relationship,--is lying very ill at Killykinick. While still prostrated with fever, he was exposed to the storm of yesterday, in which he nearly lost his life.

Between the shock, the excitement of his rescue by the life-savers, he is very, very ill,--too ill to be removed to a hospital; and he is at Killykinick with only boys and men to care for him," continued Father Rayburn. "The doctors tell me an experienced nurse is necessary, and we can find none willing to take so serious a case in such a rude, remote place. But my good friend Father John seems to think that you would take pity on our great need."

"Oh, I will,--I will!" was the eager answer. "I already have friends at Killykinick among those fine boys from St. Andrew's. My little G.o.ddaughter and I were to make an excursion there to-day, but the storm disabled Mr.

Forester's yacht. I am so glad to be of service to you, Father! I will get ready at once."

In spite of the joyful return of laddie yesterday, there was gloom this morning at Killykinick. Daddy, who had been brought over at his own request from the Life-Saving Station, lay in the old Captain's room, which Brother Bart had resigned to him, very, very sick indeed.

"Sinking fast, I'm afraid," the doctor said. "The fever has broken, but the shock of yesterday's danger and rescue has been too much for a man in his weakened state. Still there's a chance for him--a fighting chance. But it will take very careful and experienced nursing to pull him through."

So Father Tom had gone in search of a nurse, leaving Freddy and Brother Bart watching by the sick bed; while Dan, who as second mate was a.s.sisting his chief officers to right and repair the "Sary Ann," listened with a heavy heart to the old salt's prognostications.