"I'll find him," said little Dr. Fisher, who had his own views about Joel, after closely regarding his singed eyebrows and black face; "lucky enough if he doesn't need considerable patching up," he muttered to himself, as he strode off to reconnoitre.
"There's no use in your hiding," he said aloud, as if talking to some one. "So you might as well come out at once, and let me know where you're hurt, Joe, and I'll fix you before your mother sees you."
"I ain't hurt," said a voice from the lilac bushes.
"Oh, you are not?" said the little doctor, opening the bushes to peer within, his spectacles setting well down on the end of his nose, so that he looked over them. "That's good," and he soon had Joel out. "Now then, I'll fix you up as good as ever," and he rummaged his ample pockets for the things he had thrust into them for this very work.
"I ain't hurt," said Joel, wriggling furiously.
"Stand still, Joe," said the little doctor, coolly, "for I'm going to patch you up, so that you're decent to see your mother. Aren't you ashamed to get this way when Polly, poor brave girl, has been so sick? Why, what's the matter with you!" suddenly giving Joel a whirl, so that he could look in his face.
Joel's face was working frightfully. "I 'most--burnt--the little brown house--up," he gasped. "I made a fire in--the stove!"
[XXV]
JOEL SELLS SHOES FOR MR. BEEBE
The little doctor kept a firm hold on Joel's jacket, and gazed keenly into his face. "Um!" he said.