“S-s-she has forgotten me,” said the boy, with a chagrined air.
“Don’t you believe it, Master Titus,” replied Mrs. Blodgett, consolingly. “She always do act that way when you takes her in a strange place.”
However, she had forgotten Titus, or she had transferred her affections to others. That was confirmed when the boy returned home a few weeks later.
His grandfather had insisted upon his staying in the hospital until he was quite well, but everything comes to him who waits, and at last the day arrived when Titus’s belongings were packed. He himself limped out of his room, and down the long halls and staircases, and entered the carriage waiting for him.
A nurse went with him, for his grandfather was confined at home with a slight cold.
When the carriage drove up to the door Titus hobbled up the steps and greeted the servants, who were all waiting for him.
“H-h-how do you do, everybody?” he called out, cheerily, “H-h-here I am as good as new, except a scar on my forehead, and one foot a little bit crooked. W-where’s grandfather?” and he limped upstairs to the Judge’s study.
“W-w-whew!” he said after a time, “isn’t she a beauty—a real princess!”
He was not a demonstrative boy, but on this day he gave his grandfather a bearish hug; then, as if he were ashamed of so much expansion, he turned on his heel and said, “Where’s the pigeon?”