ught to find Joey for Polly," and started on a tour of
investigation to suit herself.

Meanwhile Ben was giving Joel instructions about the tickets; and Joel
presently was so absorbed he wouldn't have cared if all the Tom
Beresfords in the world had deserted him, as he bent over his task,
quite elated that he was helping Polly, and becoming one of the
assistants to make the affair a success.

"I guess it's going to be a great thing, Ben," he said, looking up a
moment from the pink and yellow pasteboard out of which he was cutting
the tickets.

"You better believe so," nodded Ben, hugely delighted to see Joe's good
spirits, when the door opened, and in popped Phronsie's yellow head.

She ran up to Joel. "Oh Joey!" she hummed delightedly, "I've found you,"
and threw herself into his arms.

Joel turned sharply, knife in hand. It was all done in an instant.
Phronsie exclaimed, "_Oh!_" in such a tone that Ben, off in the corner
of the room, whirled around, to see Joel, white as a sheet, holding
Phronsie. "I've killed her," he screamed.

Ben sprang to them. The knife lay on the table, where Joel had thrown
it, a little red tinge along the tip. Ben couldn't help seeing it as he
dashed by, with a groan.

"Give her to me," he commanded hoarsely.

"No, no--I'll hold her," persisted Joel, through white lips, and hanging
to Phronsie.

"Give her to me, and run down for Father Fisher."

"It doesn't hurt much, Joey," said Phronsie, holding up her little arm.
A small stream of blood was flowing down, and she turned away her head.

Joel took one look, and fled with wild eyes. "I don't believe it's very
bad," Ben made himself call after him hoarsely. "Now, Phronsie, you'll
sit in my lap--there; and I'll keep this old cut together as well as I
can. We must hold your arm up, so, child." Ben made himself talk as fast
as he could to keep Phronsie's eyes on him.

"I got cut in the little brown house once, didn't I, Bensie?" said
Phronsie, and trying to creep up further into Ben's lap.

"You must sit straight, child," said Ben. Oh, would Father Fisher and
Mamsie ever come! for the blood, despite all his efforts, was running
down the little arm pretty fast.

"Why, Ben?" asked Phronsie, with wide eyes, and wishing that her arm
wouldn't ache so, for now quite a smart pain had set in. "Why, Bensie?"
and thinking if she could be cuddled, it wouldn't be quite so bad.

"Why, we must hold your arm up stiff," said Ben, just as Mamsie