No need to tell Joel that. Over the fields and across lots he
ran like a deer, scaling stone walls in a flash, only to reach
the doctor's house to be told that he was away twenty miles into
the country. Then Joel sat down on the grass by the roadside,
and burying his face in his hands, cried as if his heart would
break.

He didn't mind that a pair of spirited black horses were coming
down the road, the bright horses all a-jingle, and the carriage
all a-bloom with gay colors, and merry with cheery voices.

"What's the matter?" called somebody to him, but he cried on as
hard as he could.

Then his little shoulder in his homespun jacket was shaken
smartly. "See here, my boy, either you tell me what you're
screaming for, or I'll pick you up and carry you off."

Joel looked up, the streams of tears making muddy paths along
his face, where he had rubbed it with his grimy hands. "Dave's
killed," he burst out, "and the--the doctor's gone away!"

"Come on." It was a kind face that was over him, and in a minute
Joel felt himself lifted by a pair of strong arms that presently
tossed him into the carriage, in amongst the occupants, while
the owner of the arms jumped in beside him. "Do you know the way
home?" he asked.

"Of course," said Joel; "it's the little brown house--" then he