"Doing very well now! That means he has been doing badly lately! Has he been ill?" exclaimed Sybil, in breathless anxiety.
"No, Miss Sybil; but he was in the old Haunted Chapel when de debbil blowed it up."
"Oh, good heavens!" cried Sybil, clasping her hands, and unable to speak another word.
"Don't be scared! he wasn't hurt not to speak of; only stunned and bruised a bit. And he's all right now. On'y grievin' of hisse'f to death, which is perfec'ly nateral, you see. Goodness knows as I myse'f hasn't eat a meal's wittels, nor likewise sleeped a wink o' sleep, since gone you's been! And oh! how I thank my Heavenly Marster as has 'stored you to us once more alive and well!" cried Joe, hobbling towards Sybil, sinking at her feet, and giving way to his feelings in a burst of sobs and tears.
Sybil raised him up, and then noticed for the first time how lame he was.
"It's nothin' to speak on, Miss Sybil. On'y a sprained ankle. I can get on well enough with a crutch. And here I am as willin' and able to sarve you as ever," said the poor fellow, earnestly.
"Thanks, dear Joe! I want you, if you can, to go with me to my husband immediately."
"But, Miss Sybil, honey, you look so pale and weak and wore out. Better stay here while I go and get a conweyance."
"No, no, no, Joe! It would take you too long, and I cannot wait. I can walk," said Sybil, impatiently rising and drawing the shawl up over her head, for she had no hat or bonnet.
"Name o' de Lord, then come on, honey," replied Joe, who knew it would be useless to oppose his mistress when she was fully bent on any purpose.