"What is it, Polly?" asked Phronsie's soft voice.

"O dear me! What shall I do!" Polly turned. "Phronsie dear, you
mustn't come now." Joel had sunk down and covered his face with
his hands, trying not to scream. "Go right back to your chair,
Polly says so. Be a good girl, Pet." She looked straight into
the blue eyes wide with astonishment at being sent back.

"Please let me, Polly," begged the little girl.

"No," said Polly, firmly, "Mamsie wouldn't like it. Go back,
Phronsie, and shut the door."

Phronsie turned without a word and went slowly back, and as
Polly seized Joel's hand and sped into the woodshed, they could
hear the kitchen door shut, and knew that she had gone back to
her chair.

When Polly and Joel reached little David, Joel was beyond words,
and he fell down and flung his arms around the little figure. Davie
stirred and moaned. "Help me lift him up, Joe," cried Polly, hoarsely.

"I couldn't get the nails," said David, "and then they all
spilled. I'm sorry, Polly," and he opened his eyes and looked up
into her white face.

When Joel saw that David could speak, he gave a great gasp. "It
was my fault," he sobbed.

"Never mind, Davie dear," said Polly, soothingly. "We can pick