Just then in rushed Polly and Jasper, surrounding him, and in a minute, “Oh, is Tom sick?”
“No,” said Tom, picking himself up grimly, “only Joe's floored me, he was so glad to hear the doctor laugh.”
“Oh, you poor, poor boy!” Polly was mothering Joel now, just as Mamsie would have done; and Tom looking on with all his eyes, as he thought of his own home, with neither mother nor sister, didn't hear Jasper at first. So Jasper pulled his arm.
“See here, Beresford, you and I will go down to the library, I think.”
“All right,” said Tom, allowing himself to be led off, though he would much have preferred remaining.
“Now, Joel,” said Polly, after they had gone, and the petting had continued for some minutes, “you must just be a brave boy, and please Mamsie, and stop crying,” for Joel had been unable to stop the tears.
“I—I—didn't—see—Phronsie coming,” wailed Joel afresh.
“Of course you didn't,” said Polly, stroking his black curls. “Why, Joey Pepper, did you think for an instant that any one blamed you?” She leaned over and set some kisses, not disturbing Joel that some of them fell on his stubby nose.
“N-no,” said Joel, through the rain of drops down his cheeks, “but it was Phronsie, Polly.” It was no use to try to check him yet, for the boy's heart was almost broken, and so Polly let him cry on. But she bestowed little reassuring pats on his shaking shoulders, all the while saying the most comforting things she could think of.
“And just think, Joey,” she cried suddenly, “you were the one who found Dr. Pennell. Oh, I should think you'd be so glad!”