"Dear me!" exclaimed Polly, in consternation, "whatever in the world has
she been doing! Well, I must get her up to the house."

"Hullo!" It was Jasper's voice. Polly flew up to her feet and hulloed back.
He took a short cut, with a good many flying leaps, across the grass. "Oh,
Polly, I've been looking for you!"

"Just see there." cried Polly, pointing tragically to the little heap.

"Well, dear me!" said Jasper. "Why, Polly"--as his eyes fell on the soiled
pinafore and the little face where the tears had made muddy streaks.

"I know it," said Polly. "Did you ever in all this world, Jasper! What do
you suppose she has been doing?"

"Oh, making mud pies, perhaps," said Jasper, unwilling to worry Polly;
"don't look so, Polly. Here, we'll carry her to the house."

"Lady-chair," said Polly, the worry dropping out of her eyes at the fun of
carrying Phronsie in. But Phronsie was beyond the charms of "lady-chair" or
"pick-a-back," her yellow head bobbing so dismally when they lifted her up,
that Jasper at last picked her up in his arms, and marched off with her.

"You bring the doll, Polly."

So Polly ran along by his side with Clorinda dangling by one arm.

Mother Fisher said never a word when she received her baby, but wisely
soothed and washed and tucked her away in bed; and little Doctor Fisher, as