“I didn’t mean—oh, I—O dear me! Polly, I didn’t mean,” he blubbered. Then he broke down and ran into Polly’s arms to hide his tears.
“Oh, I know—I know,” said Polly, soothingly, and rubbing his stubby head. “Oh, Davie, put down your wood, do,” for little Davie seemed to be paralyzed, and stood quite still in his tracks.
“And I forgot,” sniffled Joel, perfectly oblivious of Doctor Fisher and everything else. “O dear me, and Ben told me.” Here he gave a fresh sob.
“Well, Ben thought there was some wood split,” said Polly, with another pat on his black hair. Still, in her own mind, she was very much perplexed. When did Ben ever forget anything like that? “Never mind; we’ve ever so much now,” she added, brightly.
“But there was lots,” declared Joel, lifting his head to look at her, “lots and lots all ready, and Ben told me—” Here he burst out crying again, and down went his head.
“Joel, stop crying,” said Polly, getting her hand under his chin. But he burrowed deeper yet into her gown, mumbling, “I forgot—”
“Where was the wood?” demanded Polly. “Joel, you must tell me this minute.”
“In the ‘Provision Room,’” wailed Joel. “O dear me!”
“In the ‘Provision Room,’” repeated Polly, faintly.
“Yes, Ben put it in there to have it dr—dry,” whimpered Joel; “in the Cubby Hole—O dear me!”