“Then I think you did very wrong,” declared Dick flatly.

“Oh, Dick!” exclaimed Polly in consternation.

“And you don’t act like my mother at all,” said Dick, standing quite stiffly on his sturdy legs, and gazing at her with disapprobation.  “Didn’t Mrs. Chatterton save my life,” he exploded, “when the real burglar was going for me?  Say, didn’t she?” he cried.

“I have yet to find out that is the truth,” said Mrs. Whitney, finding her voice.  “Oh, Dicky,” she added, hurt that he should defend another, worst of all, Mrs. Chatterton, “don’t talk about her.”

“But I ought to talk about her,” persisted Dick.  “She saved me as much as she could.  Because she won’t let anybody thank her, I like her more myself.  I’m going to stay with her.”

With that, he held his head high, and marched to the door.

“Dick, Dick!” called his mother, “come back, dear.”

Dick slowly turned and made his way to her side, but he still regarded her with disapproval.

“Dick, I want you to go to Mrs. Chatterton’s room, and say that I am sorry I refused her offer to help, and that I would like to have her sit with me.  Remember, say I am sorry I refused her offer to help, Dicky.”  She leaned forward and kissed her boy, her long, soft hair falling like a veil around the two faces.

Dick threw his arms around her neck.

“Now, you’re a brick!” he declared impulsively.  “I’ll bring the old lady, and we’ll both sit with you.”

So Polly was free to run back to Mamsie.  On the way there she opened the door of Phronsie’s little room, just out of Father and Mother Fisher’s.

“How good it is that she sleeps through it all,” said Polly, listening to the regular breathing.  Then she stole across the room and stood beside the small bed.

“She looks just as she did the night she took her new shoes to bed,” thought Polly; “one hand is over her head, exactly as it was then.  Oh, Phronsie! to think that you’re to have no party to-morrow,” and she turned off with a sigh, went out, and closed the door.

“Percy’s here—­all right!” cried Jasper, running over the stairs to meet her at the top.

His eyes were gleaming with excitement, and his face was torn and bleeding.

“Are you hurt?” cried Polly, feeling as if the whole family were bound to destruction.  “Oh, Jasper! did you fall?”

“Nothing but a scratch.  I was fool enough to forget the ledge, and walked off for my pains”—­

“Oh, Jasper!” cried Polly, with paling cheeks, “let me bathe it for you, do;” her strength began to return at the thought of action, and she sprang for a basin of water.

“Nonsense.  No, Polly!” cried Jasper, with a quick hand detaining her, “it’s nothing but a mere scratch, I tell you, but I suppose it looks terribly.  I’ll go and wash it off.  Run and tell his mother that Percy is found.”

“Is he all right?” asked Polly fearfully, holding her breath for the answer.