Polly sprang to her feet; Mrs. Pepper, who had just stepped into the pantry, was saying, "I think, Polly, I'll make some apple dumplings, the boys like them so much."
"What is it, Joe?" cried Polly hoarsely, and standing quite still. Phronsie, with wide eyes, went up and took the boy's cold hand, and gazed into his face as he leaned against the door.
"Dick!" groaned Joel; "oh! oh! I can't bear it," and covering his face with one hand, he would have pulled the other from Phronsie's warm little palm, but she held it fast.
"Tell me at once, Joe," commanded Polly. "Hush!—mother"—but Mrs.
Pepper was already out of the pantry.
"Joel," said Mrs. Pepper, "whatever it is, tell us immediately."
The look in her black eyes forced him to gasp in one breath, "Dick fell off the double ripper, and both of his legs are broken—may be not," he added in a loud scream.
Phronsie still held the boy's hand. He was conscious of it, and that she uttered no word, and then he knew no more.
"Leave him to me, Polly," said Mrs. Pepper, through drawn lips, "and then do you run as you have never run before, to the parsonage. Oh! if they should bring him there before the mother hears."
Phronsie dropped the hand she held, and running on unsteady little feet into the bedroom, came back with Polly's hood and coat.
"Let me go," cried Polly wildly, rushing away from the detaining hand to the door, "I don't want those things on. Let me go, Phronsie!"