“You are not fit to be left alone, and—I want to stay,” she pleaded, as Star hesitated about accepting her offer.
So the two young girls passed the night together, and Star, growing confidential, and feeling that some explanation regarding Josephine’s insulting remarks that morning was due her friend, told her much concerning her life, and how it had happened that she was at one time an inmate of Mrs. Richards’ family; also relating the events that had transpired since she and Mr. Rosevelt left them, and how she had rescued Josephine from the mad dog.
Star was really ill from nervous prostration the next day, and obliged to keep her room; but Miss Meredith regaled curious ears with the whole story of Josephine Richards’ danger and Star’s courageous defense of her, and all Newport did indeed “ring” even as she had hoped.
Enough could not be said in admiration of the brave girl, while scorn and contempt were freely expressed for the recipients of so much heroism for refusing to acknowledge their indebtedness, and awarding her the commendation she deserved.
Mr. Rosevelt was even more unnerved, when he learned the truth, than he had been the previous day.
He came to her room, wan and haggard, after talking with Miss Meredith, and sank, weak and trembling, into a chair at her side.
“My child,” he said, brokenly, as he took both her hands and looked them carefully over with tear-laden eyes, “are you sure you did not get a scratch anywhere?”
“Quite sure, Uncle Jacob,” Star replied, reassuringly; “the dog did not touch me anywhere, and if he had, I had a pair of stout undressed kid gloves on, and they would have protected me.”
“But you were in terrible danger. Suppose you had not succeeded in pinning him down, and he had turned upon you?” he said, with a shudder.
“I did not think of that,” Star answered; “but if I had known that he would turn upon me, I believe I should have tried to save Josephine just the same. Somebody was in danger of being bitten even if she escaped unharmed, and I felt that I must strain every nerve and not allow him to get among the company. The dog was a tiny little thing,” she went on, flushing and becoming excited as she seemed to live over again that dreadful experience; “but, oh, Uncle Jacob, he was terribly strong. I thought once that I should have to let him go; I could not have held him one minute longer;” and she covered her face with her hands, weeping from nervousness.