So Joel ran in and sat on the edge of Grandma's bed, on top of the gay patched quilt, and recounted just how it all happened.
"Hey?" exclaimed Grandma, every minute.
"I can't make her hear nothin'," said Joel at last, in despair, turning to his mother. "What gets into folks' ears to make 'em deaf, Mamsie?"
"Oh, it often comes on when they're old," answered Mrs. Pepper, who had been searching all this time in all the cracked bowls and cups for the scraps of court plaster. "It will be such a piece of work to get her to tell me where it is," she said to herself.
"I ain't ever goin' to be deaf when I'm old," declared Joel, in alarm.
"You don't know whether you will or not," said Mrs. Pepper, rummaging away, "so you better use your ears to good advantage now, while you've got 'em."
"I'll always have 'em," said Joel, putting up both hands to feel of these appendages and see if they were there. "I guess they can't get off," and he shook his head smartly.
"How'd you cut it?" asked Grandma, shrilly, for the fiftieth time.
Joel slipped off the gay patched bedquilt, and ran up to his mother, drawing a long breath.
"O dear me!" exclaimed Mrs. Pepper, seeing the bandage of old cloth, which was quite red and damp. "Go and sit down and hold your hand still. I must ask Grandma where that court plaster is. I know she has some, because when Polly cut her finger, you know, Grandma gave her a piece."