The end of the next street was nearly the conclusion of my journey. He stopped there, however, bid me good-morning, and called Snap, who seemed a little doubtful whether to follow his old mistress or his new master, but trotted away upon being summoned by the latter.
“I won’t offer to restore him to you, Miss Grey,” said Mr. Weston, smiling, “because I like him.”
“Oh, I don’t want him,” replied I, “now that he has a good master; I’m quite satisfied.”
“You take it for granted that I am a good one, then?”
The man and the dog departed, and I returned home, full of gratitude to heaven for so much bliss, and praying that my hopes might not again be crushed.
CHAPTER XXV.
CONCLUSION
“Well, Agnes, you must not take such long walks again before breakfast,” said my mother, observing that I drank an extra cup of coffee and ate nothing—pleading the heat of the weather, and the fatigue of my long walk as an excuse. I certainly did feel feverish and tired too.
“You always do things by extremes: now, if you had taken a short walk every morning, and would continue to do so, it would do you good.”
“Well, mamma, I will.”
“But this is worse than lying in bed or bending over your books: you have quite put yourself into a fever.”