Mrs. Fisher had sat down resolutely to her sewing after the decision had been made by Ben that put aside all her hopes for his future education. She now sprang to her feet, upsetting the big work-basket, and forgetting Polly, said, "It's been too much for him."
"What's been too much?" cried Polly, hanging to Mother Fisher's hand, her heart going like a trip-hammer. "Oh, Mamsie, what is the matter with Ben?" The room seemed to go round with her and everything to turn black.
"Polly," said Mrs. Fisher, firmly, "I cannot tell you anything now. You must stay here. I am going to see Ben." And Polly, left alone, had nothing to do but throw herself on the big, old sofa, where she crouched in her distress till Mamsie should come back and tell her all about the dreadful mystery.
For that something awful had happened to Ben, Polly was now quite sure, as she lay there, her head burrowed in the big pillow, the wildest thoughts running through her brain. The first thing she knew, a hard little hand was tucked into her neck. She knew Joel's tickles, that he loved to give her, long before he sang out, "Polly Pepper, lying down in the daytime! Aren't you ashamed?"
"Oh, Joel," cried Polly, in a smothered voice; "do go away," she begged.
For answer Joel slid to his knees and crowded his chubby face into the pillow. "Are you sick, Polly?" he cried, in an awe-struck voice.
"No," said Polly, wriggling hard to keep him from seeing her face; "do, please, go away, Joey."
"I know you're sick," contradicted Joel, stubbornly; and bounding to his feet, "Where's Mamsie?" peering all around the room.
Polly didn't answer, being unwilling to tell about Ben.
"Well, I shall go and find her," declared Joel, decidedly, preparing to rush off.