It was all done in a minute, and he had her out from under them. When he saw the blood on her little arm, his cheeks went very white, and his legs wobbled.
“I’ve got to get Mamsie,” he said, and rushed for the kitchen door.
“I’m going to get Mamsie,” wailed Phronsie after him.
David lent speed to his feet, and burst into the old kitchen where Polly was brushing up the floor.
“Phronsie’s hurt!” he screamed. “Do come, Polly. I’ve spilled wood all over her.” With that he rushed into the bedroom. “Mamsie—why where—”
Polly dropped the broom and flew out of doors, Davie at her heels.
“I can’t find Mamsie,” he panted.
“No, she’s gone to Mrs. Blodgett’s,” Polly threw over her shoulder as she ran on. “Where is Phronsie? Oh, Davie, where is she?”
“By the wood-pile,” gasped David, flying back of the shed.
But when they both got there, Phronsie was nowhere to be seen. To find Mamsie was her one thought, and since she knew that Mother Pepper was helping Mrs. Blodgett, why of course the hurt arm must get there as soon as possible. So she wiped up her tears on her small pink apron, and trudged on past the lane that led to Grandma Bascom’s, and into the high road.