“Go tell the servants that she is found,” said the Judge to Titus.
The boy rushed down the steps, and the Judge bent over Bethany. She had no wrap on, and the pigeon loft was not kept very warm.
He looked at a thermometer over her head—fifty degrees.
“Child,” he said, gently shaking her, “wake up.”
She drowsily opened her eyes and murmured, “Birds of heaven.”
The Judge shook her again. “Come! Come! Don’t you want some Christmas dinner?”
She staggered to her little feet. “O! is it you, Mr. Judge! I was dreaming of you and the birds.”
The Judge smiled, took her hand, and conducted her down the steps, then carried her in the house. Upon arriving inside they found Mrs. Blodgett, who had just come from her midday Christmas dinner, eaten at her daughter’s. She had been overwhelming the unfortunate Betty with reproaches. If she, Mrs. Blodgett, had been at home the child would not have been allowed to steal away and give everyone such an upsetting—just like a careless, giddy girl, and she swept away the little child to make her toilet for dinner.
From her store of clothes she managed to unearth another dress of the grandchild Mary Ann’s, for Bethany appeared at the dinner table in pale blue.
Very pretty she looked as she came gently into the dining room and allowed old Higby to lift her to a seat beside the Judge.