"Why, Dorothy, my little witch, who told you that I wanted you so much? Here's work to do, my lass, and none can do it so well."
Mistress Hazelwood had taken it into her head to go with the carriage to meet him on the road, and somewhat alarmed at the orders brought by the guard, had driven on with fresh horses at once.
Very much surprised was she at the strange story he told, very much gratified also that in her loving haste to welcome her husband home, she had unconsciously come to his aid in a moment of some perplexity.
Phœbe was now on the cottager's bed, calmed into restful slumber, while her kind friends arranged for such accommodation as the cottage and the little inn afforded, until morning should announce the result.
She then opened her eyes wonderingly on the sweet face that was watching for her waking, and that no anxiety should disturb her. Mrs. Hazelwood had taken the child in her arms, that she might be instantly assured of its safety.
"Phœbe been dreaming 'bout de angels," she said. "Is der come take care oh dear missy's chile?"
"The Lord of angels has sent friends to take care of her and of you," said the lady softly; "and you must lie still until you feel quite able to move with comfort."
Then she laid her hand upon the black brow, and felt the yet feverish pulse, while the kind hostess came forward with a tempting breakfast.
"Phœbe get up; 'shamed to lie like big log; can walk now bery quick again."
But poor Phœbe found that her powers would not justify her words, and dismay succeeded her hopeful smile.