said Mrs. Pepper, "you needn't help me this morning, Polly: I'm
getting on pretty smart; but you may just run down to the parson's,
and see how he is."

"Is he sick?" asked Polly, in awe.

To have the parson sick, was something quite different from an
ordinary person's illness.

"He's taken with a chill," said Mrs. Pepper, biting off a thread, "so
Miss Huldy Folsom told me last night, and I'm afraid he's going to
have a fever."

"Oh, dear," said Polly, in dire distress; "whatever'd we do,
mammy!"

"Don't know, I'm sure," replied Mrs. Pepper, setting her stitches
firmly; "the Lord'll provide. So you run along, child, and see how
he is."

"Can't Phronsie go?" asked Polly, pausing half-way to the bedroom
door.

"Well, yes, I suppose she might," said Mrs. Pepper, assentingly.

"No, she can't either," said Polly, coming back with her sun-bonnet
in her hand, and shutting the door carefully after her, "cause she's
fast asleep on the floor."

"Is she?" said Mrs. Pepper; "well, she's been running so this