There was a funny little noise over the stairs, as if there were more than one pair of feet, which was soon explained by Joel's bursting in, dragging another boy after him, who had his arm done up in a sling.
"It's Jack," he said, by way of introduction.
"Oh, Joel!" cried Polly, springing to her feet, in consternation.
"Yes, and now what is it?" Joel advanced to the invalid's couch, ready for business.
"I'm very glad to see Jack," said Mrs. Sterling, with a smile, putting out her soft, white hand to the boy, who was gazing at the doorway through which he had come, as if nothing would please him so much as to go through it again, this time on the way back.
"You might get a chair, Joel, for your friend, and another for yourself," suggested Mrs. Sterling.
"I will—I will," cried Joel, well pleased to have something to do, and dragging up the first one he could find. "I'm going to sit on the carpet"—suiting the action to the words.
"Well, you see—" Mrs. Sterling, without more ado, began at once on her plan. Polly was by this time back on her cricket, very much relieved to find that it wasn't so very dreadful after all to have Jack there, since Mrs. Sterling seemed to like it. "There's nothing helps a boy who is to be shut up in the house for a long time, quite so much as to have the other boys who can go out to play, think of him, and plan for his comfort. Isn't that so?" Mrs. Sterling looked at her little audience keenly.
"Yes," said two of them. Jack was so scared at finding himself where he had never supposed he could be—in the stately brownstone mansion—that he fixed his eyes on the carpet, not daring to move; as for speech, it was quite beyond him.
"Well, now that Lawrence Keep has gotten hurt, I think it will be a very good plan to have a Comfort committee to look out for him."