“You are another,” said Julia haughtily. “Oh, dear, I can't sit down, and I don't want flattery: I want papa. A waltz! a waltz! then one can go mad with joy without startling propriety. I can't answer for the consequences if I don't let off a little, little happiness.”
“That I will,” said Mrs. Dodd; “for I am as happy as you, and happier.” She played a waltz.
Julia's eyes were a challenge: Alfred started up and took her ready hand, and soon the gay young things were whirling round, the happiest pair in England.
But in the middle of the joyous whirl, Julia's quick ear, on the watch all the time, heard the gate swing to: she glided like an eel from Alfred's arm and ran to the window. Arrived there, she made three swift vertical bounds like a girl with a skipping rope, only her hands were clapping in the air at the same time; then down the stairs, screaming, “His chest his chest! he is coming, coming, come!”
Alfred ran after her.
Mrs. Dodd, unable to race with such antelopes, slipped quietly out into the little balcony.
Julia had seen two men carrying a trestle with a tarpauling over it, and a third walking beside. Dodd's heavy sea-chest had been more than once carried home this way. She met the men at the door, and overpowered them with questions:—
“Is it his clothes? Then he wasn't so much wrecked after all. Is he with you? Is he coming directly? Why don't you tell me?”
The porters at first wore the stolid impassive faces of their tribe; but when this bright young creature questioned them, brimming over with ardour and joy, their countenances fell and they hung their heads.
The little sharp-faced man, who was walking beside the others stepped forward to reply to Julia.