Still the Judge did not speak, and Mrs. Blodgett went on. “’Pears to me, now I think of it, you did tell me to take this little boy an’ put him to bed. I didn’t pay no attention, sir. As much as I honors you, I couldn’t think to change my Maker’s decrees by makin’ a little girl a little boy.”
“O, grandfather!” gasped Titus, half under the table. “O! O! grandfather!”
The Judge’s face relaxed, then he looked about him and began to smile. Then he laughed—laughed so heartily that Mrs. Blodgett, who was no simpleton, and who was beginning to understand, joined in. Higby, delighted to find no share of mismanagement attributed to him, snickered agreeably, and even the maids who had just come up from the kitchen and were going to their work in different parts of the house, hearing the sound of enjoyable laughter, echoed it light-heartedly.
“This is a good Christmas joke on you and me, Titus,” said the Judge at last, putting his handkerchief to his face to wipe his eyes. “It is said that one finds what one looks for. We were looking for a boy, and we persuaded ourselves that we had found one.”
“Did that woman try to deceive you, sir?” asked Titus, drawing his head from under the table and casting a comical glance at his grandfather, then at the little girl.
“No, she had the appearance of an honest woman, but her deafness prevented her from hearing us fully. Now that I think of it, she did not once say that the child was a boy. We jumped to that conclusion. Why did you not tell us what you were?” and he turned to the child.
She gave him a quiet smile that assured him that she had not intentionally deceived him, and then he saw that her mouth was parched and open, and that her lips moved slightly as she looked beyond him toward the table.
“You are hungry,” he said, courteously. “Higby, lift her to her seat.”
The child looked over her shoulder at Mrs. Blodgett. She wished to sit down at the table with her, and with a deeply gratified smile the housekeeper stepped forward and arranged her in her chair. That glance would be set down to the little stranger’s credit.
“I have to beg your pardon, Mrs. Blodgett,” said the Judge. “There was a misunderstanding all round. This little girl is an orphan. I offered to find a home for her, thinking that she was a boy because she was dressed like one. She has probably had on the borrowed garments of a little boy belonging to the kind woman who has taken care of her.”