“Then, Paula, I shall hold thee responsible. Thee was left in charge. Come with me to my room. I will hear thy story there.”
“Wait, Aunt Ruth; there is no blame to be put upon anybody but me. I, Octave, was what ‘happened’; I always am, you know.”
There was visible relief in all the faces of the group, save that of the self-accused. Yes, and save in that of Aunt Ruth herself. At that instant it was perfectly evident to all that the judgment which would be meted out to Octave would be far more lenient than it would have been in any other case.
An expression of keenest regret stole over the young Friend’s features; and a look of astonishment that cut Octave to the heart. But she did not gaze upon it long, for, with an impetuous rush, she fell upon Ruth’s neck and hid her face on the gray-clad shoulder. “Yes, Aunt Ruth; and I am sorry; but I should do it again, just the same. No, I mean, not perhaps not the same—but, oh, dear! I—I believe, upon my word, I’m crying; and I’m sure I don’t know why!”
CHAPTER XIX.
One by one the cousins who could do so passed out of the room, leaving Melville, who could not go had he wished, as sole witness of the interview between Ruth and Octave.
The sight of the merry Octave in tears was one so unusual and so depressing that little Fritz set up a dismal wail, which Christina checked her own more silent grief to soothe.
“Never mind, little brother; Aunt Ruthy loves Octave ever so! She’ll not scold her very hard for running away and being a heroine.”
“But she will! And Octave cried! I never, no never, all my life long, saw my Octave a-cryin’. I—I wish the old thing had staid to home; so there!”
“But this is her home, Fritz; and it is you and I who have put her out of it. That’s what Luke said. He said we ‘kerried on so like possessed’ that we ‘jest clean druv’ grandmother and Aunt Ruth away.”