Five Little Peppers at School Part 35

"Sit still, Phronsie," said Mrs. Fisher, keeping her fingers on the cut.

Would the doctor ever come? Besides Joel, Thomas and several more messengers were despatched with orders for Dr. Pennell and to find Dr.

Fisher, with the names of other doctors if these failed. G.o.d would send some one of them soon, she knew.

Phronsie obediently sat quite still, although she longed to show Grandpapa the white bandages drawn tightly around her arm. And she smoothed his hair, while he clasped his hands in her lap.

"I want Polly," she said presently.

"Stay where you are, Polly," said her mother, who had telegraphed this before with her eyes, over Phronsie's yellow hair.

Polly, at the sound of Phronsie's voice, had leaned forward, but now stood quite still, clasping her hands tightly together.

"Speak to her, Polly," said Jasper.

But Polly shook her head, unable to utter a sound.

"Polly, you must," said Jasper, for Phronsie was trying to turn in her mother's lap, and saying in a worried way, "Where's Polly? I want Polly."

"Polly is over there," said Mamsie, "but I do not think it's best for her to come now. But she'll speak to you, Phronsie."

"How funny!" laughed Phronsie. "Polly can't come, but she'll talk across the room."

Everything turned black before Polly's eyes; but she began, "Yes, Pet, I'm here," very bravely.

"I am so glad you are there, Polly," said Phronsie, easily satisfied.

Footsteps rapid and light were heard on the stairs. Polly and Jasper flew away from the doorway to let Dr. Pennell, his little case in his hand, come in.

"Well, well!" he exclaimed cheerily, "so now it's Phronsie; I'm coming to her this time," for he had often dropped in to call or to dine since the railway accident.

"Yes," said Phronsie, with a little laugh of delight, for she very much liked Dr. Pennell. He always took her on his lap, and told her stories; and he had a way of tucking certain little articles in his pockets to have her hunt for them. So they had gotten on amazingly well.

"Why, where--" Phronsie began in a puzzled way.

"Is Dr. Fisher?" Dr. Pennell finished it for her, rapidly going on with his work. "Well, he'll be here soon, I think. And you know he always likes me to do things when he isn't on hand. So I've come."

"And I like you very much," said Phronsie, wriggling her toes in satisfaction.

"I know that; we are famous friends, Phronsie," said the doctor, with one of those pleasant smiles of his that showed his white teeth.

"What's famous?" asked Phronsie, keeping her grave eyes on his face.

"Oh, fine; it means first-rate. We are fine friends, aren't we, Phronsie?"

"Yes, we are," declared Phronsie, bending forward to see his work the better, and taking her eyes from his face.

"There, there, you must sit quite straight. That's a nice child, Phronsie. And see here! I must take you sometime in my carriage when I go on my calls. Will you go, Phronsie?" and Dr. Pennell smiled again.

"Yes, I will." Phronsie nodded her yellow head, while she fastened her eyes on his face. "I used to go with Papa Fisher when I was at the little brown house, and I liked it; I did."

"Well, and now you will go with me," laughed Dr. Pennell. "Now, Phronsie, I think you are fixed up quite nicely," slipping the various articles he had used, deftly into his little bag, and snapping it to.

"Not a very bad affair," he said, whirling around to old Mr. King, drawn deeply within a big chair, having already telegraphed the same to Mother Fisher over Phronsie's head.

"Thank the Lord!" exclaimed the old gentleman.

"Well, now I'm going to send every one out of the room," announced Dr.

Pennell, authoritatively. "Hurry now!" he clapped his hands and laughed.

Old Mr. King sat quite still, fully determined not to obey. But the doctor, looking over him fixedly, seemed to expect him to leave; and although he still had that pleasant smile, he didn't exactly give the impression that his medical authority could be tampered with. So the old gentleman found himself outside the door.

"And now, we must find Joel," Polly was saying to Jasper.

XVIII TOM'S STORY

Joel had no cause to complain now that Tom Beresford did not stick to him, for there he was hanging over him as he crouched into as small a heap as possible into a corner of Mamsie's sofa.

And there he had been ever since Joel had rushed in with Dr. Pennell; when, not daring to trust himself up in Ben's room, he had dashed for refuge to Mamsie's old sofa.

Tom had not wasted many words, feeling sure under similar circ.u.mstances he shouldn't like to be talked to; but he had occasionally patted Joel's stubby head in a way not to be misunderstood, and once in a while Joel thrust out a brown hand which Tom had gripped fast.

"It's all right, old boy, I verily believe," Tom cried with sudden energy, "so brace up; what's the use of your going to pieces, anyway?"

"It's Phronsie," gasped Joel, and burrowing deeper into the cus.h.i.+on.

"Well, I know it," said Tom, gulping down his sorrow, for he had petted Phronsie a good deal; so he was feeling the blow quite sharply himself, "but you won't help matters along any, I tell you, by collapsing."

"Go out into the hall, will you, Tom," begged Joel, huddling down, unwilling to listen himself, "and see if you can hear anything."

So Tom skipping out into the wide upper hall, thankful for any action, but dreading the errand, stole to the foot of the stairs, and craned his ear to catch the faintest sound from above.

There was only a little murmur, for Dr. Pennell was in the midst of operations, and not enough to report. Thankful that it was no worse, Tom skipped back. "All's quiet along the Potomac."

"_Ugh!_" exclaimed Joel, burrowing deeper. Suddenly he threw himself up straight and regarded Tom out of flas.h.i.+ng eyes. "I've killed Phronsie,"

he cried huskily, "and you know it, and won't tell me!"

"Joel Pepper!" cried Tom, frightened half out of his wits, and rus.h.i.+ng to him; "lie down again," laying a firm hand on his shoulder.

"I won't," roared Joel wildly, and shaking him off. "You're keeping something from me, Tom."

"You're an idiot," declared Tom, thinking it quite time to be high-handed, "a first-cla.s.s, howling idiot, Pepper, to act so. If you don't believe me, when I say I haven't anything to keep back from you, I'll go straight upstairs. Some one will tell me."

"Hurry along," cried Joel feverishly. But Tom had gotten no further than the hall, when Joel howled, "Come back, Tom, I'll try--to--to bear it."

And Tom flying back, Joel was buried as far as his face went, in Mamsie's cus.h.i.+on, sobbing as if his heart would break.

"It will disturb--them," he said gustily, in between his sobs.