“O dear! but I’ve killed Joel.”  Van covered his face with the folds of her flannel dress and wailed on.

“Now, just see here, Van Whitney,” said Polly, with the air of authority, “I tell you that Joel is all right now.  Don’t you say that again—­not once more, Vanny.”

“But I have ki—­I mean I saw Thomas shoot, and I couldn’t stop him,” and Van writhed fearfully, ending with a scream “I’ve ki”—­but Polly, clapping her hand over his mouth, kept the words back.

Meanwhile Percy had rushed out of the house.

“Oh!” cried Polly, when this new alarm sprang up, and everybody was running hither and thither to comfort him by the assurance that Joel was not much hurt, “do, Uncle Mason and Jasper, let me go with you.”

“No, no, you stay here, Polly,” cried Jasper, throwing wide the heavy front door.  “Brother Mason and I will find him.  Don’t worry, Polly.”

“I know I could help,” said Polly, hanging over the stair-railing.  “Oh! do let me,” she begged.

“No, no, child,” said Mr. Whitney, quickly.  “Stay where you are, and take care of the others.  Now, then, Jasper, is Jencks ready with the lantern?”

“All right,” said Jasper.  “Come on.”

Polly, longing to fly to the window to watch, at least, the lantern’s twinkling light across the lawn, hurried off to comfort Aunt Whitney, who at this new stage in the affairs, was walking her room, biting her lips to keep from screaming the terror that clutched at her heart.

“Oh, Polly!” she cried, “I’m so glad you’ve come.  I should die if left alone here much longer;” her soft hair floated down the white robe, and the blue eyes were filled with tears.  “Do tell me, don’t you think they will find Percy?”

“Yes, indeed!” declared Polly, cuddling up to the little woman.  “Oh, Auntie! remember when Dicky’s leg was broken.”

“But this is much worse,” said Mrs. Whitney, sobbing, and holding close to Polly’s warm hand.

“But we thought he was dead,” and Polly gave a little shiver.

“Don’t—­don’t,” begged Mrs. Whitney, clasping her hands; “Oh, Polly! don’t.”

“But he wasn’t, you see, Auntie,” Polly hurried on, “and so now you know it will come out all right about Per—­There!  Oh! they’ve found him!” as a shout from the lawn rang out.

“Do you suppose it, Polly?” cried Mrs. Whitney, breathlessly.  “Oh! do run to the window and see!”

So Polly ran to the window in the next room that overlooked that part of the lawn where Mr. Whitney and Jasper were searching, and strained her gaze up and down, and in every direction.

“Have they? oh! have they?” cried Mrs. Whitney.  “Oh, Polly! do tell me.”

“I don’t see any of them,” said Polly, listening eagerly for another cry, “but I do believe they’ve found him.”

“Do come back,” implored Mrs. Whitney; “there, now, don’t go again, Polly,” as Polly hurried to her side, “but just hold my hand.”