There was a broken place on the outside of the “Provision Room,” called by the children the “Cubby Hole,” and Ben had tucked the split wood in there, telling Joel to fill the box behind the stove; then he had hurried off to work for Deacon Blodgett.
“Well, never mind,” said Polly again; “don’t cry, Joel, you didn’t mean to forget.”
“No, he didn’t,” said little Davie, who had set down his wood on the floor by the side of Joel’s armful, to come anxiously up to Polly’s side. “He didn’t mean to, Polly.”
“I know,” said Polly, nodding over to him, “and we have plenty of wood. See there, boys,” she pointed over to the big box.
“Where’d you get it?” Joel raised his head to sniff out the words between his tears.
“Oh, Doctor Fisher brought in the most of it,” said Polly.
“No, I didn’t,” said the little doctor, who had heard every word, and whirling around toward them. “Polly brought in the first lot.”
“O dear me!” exclaimed Joel at that, ready to burst into fresh sobs, for the boys never allowed Polly to bring in any wood, each one vying with the others to be the first one to fill the big box.
“Oh, no,” said Polly, so anxious to keep Joel from feeling badly, she forgot she was contradicting. “I only brought in a little, Joey; Doctor Fisher brought in all the top part.”
“Well, now,” said the little doctor, cheerily, “the wood’s here, and, although it was very bad of you, Joel, to go off and forget what Ben told you,—I’m not denying that,—it didn’t hurt Polly half as much to bring it in, as to see you cry. Come, wipe up; you’re ’most a man, Joel.” And that long speech over, Doctor Fisher whipped out his big bandanna and mopped Joel’s red face from top to bottom.