“No, my love, no,” answered her father, kissing her. “Why should you think that I was dead? Didn’t your mother tell you that I was safe?”
“Oh! daddie,” she answered, “they came and said that you was drownded, and I cried and wished that I was drownded too. Then mother came home at last and said that you were better, and was cross with me because I went on crying and wanted to come to you. But I did go on crying. I cried nearly all night, and when it got light I did dress myself, all but one shoe and my hat, which I could not find, and I got out of the house to look for you.”
“And how did you find me, my poor little dear?”
“Oh, I heard mother say you was at the Vicarage, so I waited till I saw a man, and asked him which way to go, and he did tell me to walk along the cliff till I saw a long white house, and then when he saw that I had no shoe he wanted to take me home, but I ran away till I got here. But the blinds were down, so I did think that you were dead, daddie dear, and I cried till that gentleman opened the window.”
After that Geoffrey began to scold her for running away, but she did not seem to mind it much, for she sat upon the edge of the couch, her little face resting against his own, a very pretty sight to see.
“You must go back to Mrs. Jones, Effie, and tell your mother where you have been.”
“I can’t, daddie, I’ve only got one shoe,” she answered, pouting.
“But you came with only one shoe.”
“Yes, daddie, but I wanted to come and I don’t want to go back. Tell me how you was drownded.”
He laughed at her logic and gave way to her, for this little daughter was very near to his heart, nearer than anything else in the world. So he told her how he was “drownded” and how a lady had saved his life.