"Then you wouldn't ever learn yourself," said little Davie, wisely, and putting the pen down carefully.
"No," said Polly, with a little laugh, "I s'pose I shouldn't, Davie." O dear me, she thought, I ought not to laugh when Joel's in there all alone in the provision room. "Well, now we're all ready. I'm just going to peek and see if he's all right. You stay here, Davie."
With that she hopped off down the little steps to look through the big crack in the old door of the provision room.
"Why--where--" she started back and rubbed her eyes, and stared again. "Oh! Davie," she screamed. Then she clapped her hands over her mouth. "It never'd do to scare him," she said. And she opened the provision room door and rushed in. The old stool stood in the middle of the floor, but there was no Joel to be seen.
Polly ran here and there. "Joel--Joel!" she cried, peering into every corner, and looking into the potato bag and behind some boxes that the storekeeper had given the boys to make things out of, and that were kept as great treasures. "O dear me, what shall I do? I must tell Davie now, so he can help me find him--" when she heard a funny noise, and rushing outside, she heard Joel say, "Don't come, Polly, he's 'most dead."
Polly gave a gasp, and bounded to his side, as Joel flopped around on the ground, his back toward her, his black eyes fastened on something doubled up in his fists.
"O dear me, Joel, what is it?" cried Polly, bending over him.
"Ow--go way!" roared Joel, twisting worse than ever, and squeezing his brown hands together tightly; "he'll get away, maybe, and bite you."
"Oh, he'll bite you, Joe," cried Polly, in great alarm. "O dear me, let me see what it is! I can help, Joel, I can help."
She flung herself down on the ground close to his side. Just then out rushed Davie from the provision room.