glancing up at the old clock as she spoke;
"tisn't but quarter of nine; there, take care, Phronsie! you can't lift
off the cover; do help her, Davie."

"No; let me!" cried Joel, springing forward; "it's my turn; Dave got the
shingles; it's my turn, Polly."

"So 'tis," said Polly; "I forgot; there," as she flung in the wood,
and poked it all up in a nice little heap coaxingly. "It can't help but
burn; what a cake we'll have for mamsie!"

"It'll be so big," cried Phronsie, hopping around on one set of toes,
"that mamsie won't know what to do, will she, Polly?"

"No, I don't believe she will," said Polly, gayly, stuffing in more
wood; "Oh, dear! there goes Ben's putty; it's all come out!"

"So it has," said Joel, going around back of the stove to explore; and
then he added cheerfully, "it's bigger'n ever; oh! it's an awful big
hole, Polly!"

"Now, whatever shall we do!" said Polly, in great distress; "that
hateful old crack! and Ben's clear off to Deacon Blodgett's!"

"I'll run and get him," cried Joel, briskly; "I'll bring him right home
in ten minutes."

"Oh, no, you must not, Joe," cried Polly in alarm; "it wouldn't ever be
right to take him off from his work; mamsie wouldn't like it."

"What will you do, then?" asked Joel, pausing on his way to the door.

"I'm sure I don't know," said Polly, getting down on her knees to
examine the crack; "I shall have to stuff it with paper, I s'pose."

"'Twon't stay in," said Joel, scornfully; "don't you know you stuffed it
before, last week?"

"I know," said Polly, with a small sigh; and sitting down on the floor,
she remained quite still for a minute, with her two black hands thrust
out straight before her.

"Can't you fix it?" asked Davie, soberly, coming up; "then we can't have
the cake."

"Dear me!" exclaimed Polly, springing up quickly; "don't be afraid;
we're going to have that cake! There, you ugly old thing, you!" (this
to the stove) "see what you've done!" as two big tears flew out of
Phronsie's brown eyes at the direful prospect; and the sorrowful faces
of the two boys looked up into Polly's own, for comfort. "I can fix it,
I most know; do get some paper, Joe, as quick as you can."

"Don't know where there is any," said Joel, rummaging around; "it's all
tore up; 'xcept the almanac; can't I take that?"

"Oh dear, no!" cried Polly; "put it right back, Joe; I guess there's
some in the wood-shed."

"There isn't either," said little Davie, quickly; "Joel an