The Deacon’s wife was beyond speech, only being able to puff, her hand at her side and her face very red. So the little Doctor began the conversation.
“Do you know where David Pepper is?” he asked anxiously.
That made Mrs. Blodgett find her tongue. “He’s in them bushes,” she said, pointing a shaking finger back down the road.
“Get in—get right in,” said Dr. Fisher joyfully, taking hold of her fat arm, and hurrying her to the gig, “and we’ll get Davie—his mother’s awfully worried about him.”
Mrs. Blodgett had no chance to speak further until the gig was well under way for David’s bush. “He don’t look as ef Joel was worse,” she said to herself, peering into the little Doctor’s face, “but I’m mortal afraid to ask.”
“And now that Joel is going to get well,” said Doctor Fisher, “why we must get David home to his mother.”
“Joel goin’ to git well,” screamed Mrs. Blodgett, nipping his arm, and turning her red face toward him.
“Yes, indeed!” declared the little Doctor. “Praise God—Joel is saved to us all!” His face was very grave, but there was a light in the eyes back of the big spectacles that made the Deacon’s wife say brokenly, “Bless th’ Lord!”
“You may well say that,” said Dr. Fisher brokenly.
“An’ you too—I say bless you!” cried the Deacon’s wife heartily, “for I guess th’ Lord Himself can’t do much ef folks won’t help, too. Well, here’s David in that bush there.”