"The roof was here, dear child! You were walking in your sleep, Hugh. You climbed up to the upper roof, and—and Captain Roger saw you, and went after you, and brought you down. That is how you came to be in my room, Hugh. Now you understand it all, darling, and you will not worry any more about it."
Hugh looked relieved.
"Now I shall not worry any more about it!" he repeated, with satisfaction. "It was puzzling me dreadfully, Beloved, and I could not get straight till I saw how it was, but now I see. My head has been queer ever since I fell down on the ice; I think Bellerophon got bumped into it, don't you? But now he is bumped out again, and he may go and kill the Chimæra himself, for I sha'n't stir a step."
His laughter rang out fresh and joyous; and at the sound Mrs. Grahame came running in, at first in great anxiety, fearing delirium; but when she saw the two happy faces, beaming with smiles, and heard Hugh addressing her in his own quaint fashion, and hoping that she had slept very well indeed, she could not keep back the tears of joy. Seeing these tears, Hildegarde must needs weep a little, too; but they were such tears as did no one any harm, and Hugh said at once, "This is a sun-shower! And now we shall have a rainbow, and after that some breakfast."
When the breakfast came, you may be sure it was served on the very best tray the house afforded,—the gold-lacquered one, with the bronze dragon curling about it; and the broth was in the blue Sèvres bowl, with golden pheasants strutting round it.
"Dem's de nearest to chick'ns I could find!" said Auntie, and Hildegarde forbore to point out to her that she, Hildegarde, had never been allowed to so much as dust this precious piece of china, much less to eat out of it. And the toast was like thin strips of edible gold, so that both Hugh and Hildegarde declared King Midas could not have had such a bad time of it after all, if he had a cook anything like Auntie. It was hard to tell who most enjoyed the broth and toast, Hugh who ate it, Auntie who made it, or Hildegarde who held the spoon, and broke off the crisp bits. It was a happy little feast, and the doctor was a joyful man when he looked in on it an hour or so later. He said that all would go well now.
"Slowly! slowly! No hurry! Keep him here a while yet, and don't let him see too many people; no excitable folks, who will weep over him,"—Hilda and her mother exchanged a guilty glance,—"keep him in bed for a day or two, till he gets his balance entirely. Good-bye! God bless you!"
The good man trotted off briskly, and they heard him greeting some one on the veranda below.
"Doing finely! finely! All right now; a little quiet, a little care,—going in? Yes! Oh, yes! See you all right! Told them to keep noisy folks away. Good-morning!"
Mrs. Grahame went out, and spoke in a low voice with some one now in the hall. Some one was speaking in return, very low; yet not so low but that Hildegarde's heart began to throb, and the colour to mount high over cheek and brow; not so low but that Hugh, who had the fine ear of some woodland creature, sat up in bed, and clapped his hands.