"Dear child," Elsie said, "you have shown yourself thoughtful, brave, and unselfish; how proud your father will be of his eldest daughter when he hears it!"
"O Grandma Elsie, do you think he will? How glad that would make me! It would pay for all the dreadful fright I have had," Lulu said, her tones tremulous with joy, as, but a moment ago, they had been with nervousness and fright.
"I am quite sure of it," Elsie answered, smoothing the little girl's hair with caressing hand, "quite sure; because I know he loves you very dearly, and that he admires such courage, unselfishness, and presence of mind as you have shown to-night."
These kind words did much to turn Lulu's thoughts into a new channel and thus relieve the bad effects of her fright. But Elsie continued for some time longer her efforts to soothe her into calmness and forgetfulness, using tender, caressing words and endearments; then she left her, with an injunction to try to go immediately to sleep.
Lulu promised compliance, and, attempting it, succeeded far sooner than she had thought possible.
The whole occurrence seemed like a troubled dream when she awoke in the morning. It was a delicious day in early October, and as soon as dressed she went into the garden, where she found John Hencle already at work, industriously weeding and watering his plants and flowers.
"Goot-morning, mine leetle mees," he said, catching sight of her, "Was it so goot a night mit you?"
"No," she said, and went on to tell the story of her fright.
"Dot ish lige me," he remarked, phlegmatically, at the conclusion of her tale. "Von nighd I hears somedings what make me scare. I know notings what he ish; I shust hears a noise, an' I shumpt de bed out, and ran de shtairs down, and looked de window out, and it wasn't notings but a leetle tog going 'Bow wow.'"
"I don't think it was very much like my fright," remarked Lulu, in disgust; "it couldn't have been half so bad."