However, she had Tobias with her. The wicker basket was on a little lacquered table beside her bed; and as she lay, with a slow and silent tear squeezing itself at regular intervals out of her blue eyes, she had her right hand resting firmly but affectionately on the lid of Tobias’s local habitation. That quaint animal, all unconscious of the honor done to him, was wrapped in slumber, with his ugly brown nose tucked under his lean brown paws.
Thus was Miss Perry discovered at a quarter to eleven that evening when Miss Burden entered to embrace her.
“I want to go home to Slocum Magna,” said Miss Perry, with a drawl and a sob whose united effect must have been supremely ridiculous had it not been the offspring of legitimate pathos.
Miss Burden offered her the consolation of one intimately acquainted with pathos. Every night for many long and weary years she had longed to go home to her own rustic hermitage, which, however, had no existence outside her fancy.
“Dearest Araminta,” said Miss Burden, caressing her affectionately, “you will soon get used to the strangeness.”
“I want to go home to Slocum Magna,” sobbed Miss Perry.
“I am sure you are a good and brave and noble girl,” said Miss Burden, who believed profoundly in goodness and bravery and nobility.
“Papa said I was,” sobbed Miss Perry, settling her hand more firmly than ever upon the basket of Tobias.
“To-morrow you will feel happier, Araminta dearest,” said Miss Burden, bestowing a final hug upon the distressed Miss Perry.
Miss Burden was guilty of saying that which she did not believe, but let us hope no one will blame her.