he precious stove examining and exploring into ovens and
everything that belonged to it.

"Oh, ma," she announced, coming up to Mrs. Pepper, who had been obliged
to fly to her sewing again, and exhibiting a very crocky face and a
pair of extremely smutty hands, "it's most all ovens, and it's just
splendid!"

"I know it," answered her mother, delighted in the joy of her child.
"My! how black you are, Polly!"

"Oh, I wish," cried Polly, as the thought struck her, "that Dr. Fisher
could see it! Where did he go to, ma?"

"I guess Dr. Fisher has seen it before," said Mrs. Pepper, and then
she began to laugh. "You haven't ever asked where the stove came from,
Polly."

And to be sure, Polly had been so overwhelmed that if the stove had
really dropped from the clouds it would have been small matter of
astonishment to her, as long as it had come; that was the main thing!

"Mammy," said Polly, turning around slowly, with the stove-lifter in her
hand, "did Dr. Fisher bring that stove?"

"He didn't exactly bring it," answered her mother, "but I guess he knew
something about it."

"Oh, he's the splendidest, goodest man!" cried Polly, "that ever
breathed! Did he really get us that stove?"

"Yes," said Mrs. Pepper, "he would; I couldn't stop him. I don't know
how he found out you wanted one so bad; but he said it must be kept as a
surprise when your eyes got well."

"And he saved my eyes!" cried Polly, full of gratitude. "I've got a
stove and two new eyes, mammy, just to think!"

"We ought to be good after all our mercies," said Mrs. Pepper
thankfully, looking around on her little group. Joel was engaged in the
pleasing occupation of seeing how far he could run his head into the
biggest oven, and then pulling it out to exhibit its blackness, thus
engrossing the others in a perfect hubbub.

"I'm going to bake my doctor some little cakes," declared Polly, when
there was comparative quiet.

"Do, Polly," cried Joel, "and then leave one or two over."

"No," said Polly; "we can't have any, because these must be very nice.
Mammy, can't I have some white on top, just once?" she pleaded.

"I don't know," dubiously replied Mrs. Pepper; "eggs are dreadful dear,
and--"

"I don't care," said Polly, recklessly; "I must just once for Dr.
Fisher."

"I tell you, Polly," said Mrs. Pepper, "what you might do; you might
make him some little apple tarts--most every one likes them, you know."

"Well," said Polly, with a sigh, "I s'p