"I never lied, ma! I said he broke his leg," the boy gasped out as best he could for laughing, "an' you never ast which one. Oh, boys! Git on to the rags an' arniky!"
Such a shout went up that Mrs. Wiggs laughed with the rest, but only for a moment, for she spied Miss Hazy tottering toward them, and she hastened forward to relieve her anxiety.
"It's his peg-stick!" she shouted. "P-e-g-stick!"
This information, instead of bringing relief to Miss Hazy, caused a fresh burst of tears. She sat down on the track, with her apron over her face, and swayed backward and forward.
"Don't make much difference which one 't was," she sobbed; "it would be 'bout as easy to git another sure-'nough leg as to git a new wooden one. That las' one cost seven dollars. I jes' sewed an' saved an' scrimped to git it, an' now it's—busted!"
The boys stood around in silent sympathy, and when nobody was looking Chris wiped his eyes on his coat sleeve. Miss Hazy's arrival had changed their point of view.
Mrs. Wiggs rose to the occasion.
"Boys," she said, and her voice had an inspiring ring, "I'll tell you what let's do! Let's give a benefit dance to-night, an' buy Chris Hazy a new peg-stick. Every feller that's willin' to help, hol' up his hand."
A dozen grimy hands were waved on high, and offers of assistance came from all sides. Mrs. Wiggs saw that now was the time to utilize their enthusiasm.
"I'll go right back to the house, an' git Asia to write out the tickets, an' all you boys kin sell ten apiece. Miss Hazy, you kin come over an' help me git the house ready, an' we'll put Chris to cleanin' lamp-chimbleys."