“I share the blame, Ben,” broke in Jasper, “old fellow, if you pitch into yourself, you’ll have to knock me over too.”

“Come here, Vanny,” said old Mr. King, holding out his hand.  “Why, you needn’t be afraid, my boy,” aghast at the tears that no power on earth could keep back.  “Now all leave the room, please.”

“Where’s Polly?” asked Ben, on the other side of the door.

“She’s run home,” said David, “I guess.  She isn’t here.”

“And that’s where I must be too,” cried Ben, bounding off.

When Van was next seen he was with old Mr. King, and wearing all signs of having received his full share of comfort.  Phronsie, just tying on her little hood, to go down to the parsonage to ask after Dicky, looked out of the window to exclaim in pleased surprise, “Why, here comes dear Grandpapa,” and then she rushed out to meet him.

“Here’s my little girl,” cried the old gentleman, opening his arms, when she immediately ran into them.  “Now we’re all right.”

“Is Dicky all right?” asked Phronsie anxiously, as she fell into step by his side.

“Yes, indeed; as well as a youngster can be, who’s broken his leg.”

Phronsie shivered.  “But then, that’s nothing,” Mr. King hastened to add; “I broke my own when I was a small shaver no bigger than Dick, and I was none the worse for it.  Boys always have some such trifling mishaps, Phronsie.”

“Ben never broke his leg, nor Joel, nor Davie,” said Phronsie.  “Must they yet, Grandpapa?”

“O dear, no,” declared Mr. King hastily; “that isn’t necessary.  I only meant they must have something.  Now you see, Ben had the measles, you know.”

“Yes, he did,” said Phronsie, quite relieved to think that this trial could take the place of the usual leg-breaking episode in a boy’s career.  “And so did Joel, and Davie—­all of them, Grandpapa dear.”

“Exactly; well, and then Ben had to work hard, and Joel and Davie too, for that matter.  So, you see, it wasn’t as essential that they should break their legs, child.”

“But Jasper and Percy and Van don’t have to work hard; oh!  I don’t want them to break their legs,” said Phronsie, in a worried tone.  “You don’t think they will, Grandpapa dear, do you?  Please say they won’t.”

“I don’t think there is the least danger of it,” said Mr. King, “especially as I shall put an end to this double-ripper business, though not because this upset was anybody’s fault; remember that, Phronsie.”  Van’s head which had dropped a bit at the last words, came up proudly.  “Van, here, has acted nobly”—­he put his hand on the boy’s shoulder—­ “and would have saved Dicky if he could.  It was a pure accident that nobody could help except by keeping off from the abominable thing.  Well, here we are at the little brown house; and there’s your mother, Phronsie, waiting for us in the doorway.”

“Halloo!” cried Van, rushing over the flat stone, and past Mrs. Pepper, “where’s Joel?  Oh—­here, you old chap!”