she got up on a beam; and Nelly, with a peck measure on her head for a hat, and a stick for a gun, went bear-hunting, and banged away at the swallows, the barrels, and the hencoops, till the bear was ready to eat her. Presently, with a loud roar, the bear leaped; but Nelly wasn't eaten that time, for Poppy cried out with pain:
"Oh! I jumped on a pitchfork, and it's in my foot! Take it out! take it out!"
Poor little foot! There was a deep purple hole in the sole, and the blood came, and Poppy fainted away, and Nelly screamed, and mamma ran, and the neighbors rushed in, and there was such a flurry. Poppy was soon herself again, and lay on the sofa, with Nelly and Cy to amuse her.
"What did the docter say to mamma in the other room about me?" whispered Poppy, feeling very important at having such a bustle made on her account. Nelly sniffed, but said nothing; Cy, how ever, spoke up briskly:
"He says you might have lockjaw."
"Is that bad?" asked Poppy gravely.
"Oh, ain't it, though! Your mouth shuts up, and you can't open it; and you have fits and die."
"Always?" said Poppy, looking scared, and feeling of her mouth.
"Most always, I guess. That's why your ma cried, and Nelly keeps kissin' you."
