And just at that moment the door opened and in plunged little Doctor Fisher, his spectacles gleaming behind a big armful of wood.
“Oh—oh!” cried Polly and Phronsie together, as they rushed across the kitchen to him.
“It was such good fun!” declared the little doctor, depositing the big armful with a rattle and a clatter in the wood-box. His eyes sparkled, and a smile of great satisfaction spread all over his face. “You can’t think!”
“You’ve split up all that wood!” exclaimed Polly, in dismay, going back of the stove to peer into the big box; “and where did you find the hatchet?” rushing back to him.
“Oh, that’s telling,” laughed Doctor Fisher.
“And Ben won’t like it, to have you do this, because you have to work so hard to cure sick folks,” said Polly, with a very flushed face.
“Ben isn’t to know anything about it,” retorted Doctor Fisher.
“He would have filled it,” began Polly, and the rosy color flew all over her face deeper yet, “only—” And then she stopped suddenly at the thought that she would have to tell about Joel.
“Ben’s all right,” declared the little doctor, with emphasis. “Now, Polly, don’t think anything more about it.”
“You see, Joel—” And Polly clasped her hands. She had almost let it out, for Ben mustn’t be blamed unjustly—O dear, what could she do!