the nails up."

"I'll pick 'em up," cried Joel, delighted to find something to
do, and he sprang up and went scrambling around and sweeping
them into a pile with his fingers, while the big tears trailed
down his round cheeks.

"See, now," said Polly, trying to speak gayly, "how the old
nails have to hop into the box again."

"So they do," said David, with a wan little smile. Then he shut
his eyes.

"Run as fast as you can, Joe," said Polly, "and ask Grandma
Bascom to come over." Then she lifted Davie and struggled with
him to a pile of grain bags in the corner. "I can't get him into the
bedroom till Joel helps me, and besides, I must get Phronsie out
of the kitchen first," she thought. "Oh, God! _please_ don't
let Davie die," she cried deep in her heart.

Joel flew on the wings of the wind, his heart beating like a
trip-hammer, over down across the lane to Grandma Bascom's
little cottage. Grandma, with a tin pan full of wet corn meal,
was just going out to feed her hens, when he dashed up behind
her. "Please come!" he shouted, his trembling mouth close to her
cap-border. "Polly wants you!"

[Illustration: "'PLEASE COME!' HE SHOUTED CLOSE TO HER CAP-BORDER"]

"Polly's here, now that's nice!" said Grandma, well pleased.