She went at once, leaving him to reflect:
“To go to bed at daylight! When ever did I such a thing? But I will. Though I wonder if I am quite right in my mind. The idea of one small child upsetting two such households, all for the sake of a sled-ride! Hmm. Hmm. Peter! Here, Peter. I’m for bed at breakfast time! After an hour or two of rest I’ll set about finding that mislaid Joseph Smith and hand over to him this little-too-absorbing responsibility. Thank God, boy, that she did not die.”
“Aye, Massa Joe. I’se been a-thinkin’ of him the whole endurin’ night. Powerful queer, ain’t it? Just such a little speck of while, and now seems if that little missy worth more to old Peter than the whole universe. Yes, suh, the whole universe!”
“Much you know about the universe, boy. There, there! Take care that foot. If you set it aching again—Ouch!”
It was not one but many hours that Mr. Smith slept, worn out by his late physical suffering and his anxiety of the last night. When he woke his first inquiry was for Josephine.
“Laws, Massa Joe, it’s just wonderful. That child seems if nothing ever ailed her. The doctor done been here again and told what to give her for breakfast. She eat it like she was ’most starved, the little lamb. Now she’s sleepin’ again, the beautifullest ever was. I ’xpect ’twas that sleddin’ round the square done fetched it on. Next time”—
“Hush, boy. Don’t count on any ‘next time’ for her here. I must hunt up that other Joseph Smith and hand her over to him forthwith,” said the master.
Peter’s heart sank. How could they ever endure that great house now with this little child gone out of it? Well, there was one thing which nobody could prevent—his wishing that the “other Joseph” might never be found!
After Mr. Smith had eaten he paid a flying visit to the little one’s room, gazed at her now peaceful, if pale face, and stole downstairs again with softened tread. He limped but slightly, and made a critical survey of himself before he issued from the great hall into the street.
“If you’s going down town, Massa Joe, like enough you better have a cab. ’Counten your foot,” suggested Peter.