"you got pounded, did you?" looking at Phronsie, as she
took the little foot in her ample hand.

"Yes'm," said Polly, quickly; "twasn't any one's fault; what'll we do
for it, grandma?"

"Wormwood," said the old lady, adjusting her spectacles in extreme
deliberation, and then examining the little black and blue spot, which
was spreading rapidly, "is the very best thing; and I've got some to
home--you run right over," she said, turning round on David, quickly,
"an' get it; it's a-hang-in' by the chimbley."

"Let me; let me!" cried Joel, springing out of the old chair, so
suddenly that grandma's spectacles nearly dropped off in fright; "oh! I
want to do it for Phronsie!"

"Yes, let Joel, please," put in Polly; "he'll find it, grandma." So Joel
departed with great speed; and presently returned, with a bunch of dry
herbs, which dangled comfortingly by his side, as he came in.

"Now I'll fix it," said Mrs. Bascom, getting up and taking off her
shawl; "there's a few raisins for you, Polly; I don't want 'em, and
they'll make your cake go better," and she placed a little parcel on the
table as she spoke. "Yes, I'll put it to steep; an' after it's put on
real strong, and tied up in an old cloth, Phronsie won't know as she's
got any toes!" and grandma broke up a generous supply of the herb, and
put it into an old tin cup, which she covered up with a saucer, and
placed on the stove.

"Oh!" said Polly; "I can't thank you! for the raisins and all--you're so
good!"

"They're awful hard," said Joel, investigating into the bundle with
Davie, which, however, luckily the old lady didn't hear.

"There, don't try," she said cheerily; "an' I found cousin Mirandy's
weddin' cake receet, for--"

"Did you?" cried Polly; "oh! I'm so glad!" feeling as if that were
comfort enough for a good deal.

"Yes, 'twas in my Bible," said Mrs. Bascom; "I remember now; I put it
there to be ready to give John's folks when they come in; they wanted
it; so you'll go all straight now; and I must get home, for I left some
meat a-boilin'." So grandma put on her shawl, and waddled off, leaving a
great deal of comfort behind her.

"Now, says I," said Polly to Phronsie, when the little foot was snugly
tied up in the wet wormwood, "you've got to have one of mamsie's old
slippers."

"Oh, ho," laughed Phronsie; "won't that be funny, Polly!"

"I should think it would," laughed Polly, back again, pulling on the
big cloth slipper, which Joel produced from t