“Indeed I will, Larry, and only too gladly,” Mr. Everett promised, drawing closer to Larry's side, that they might talk further about it.
Not long after this Miss Julia made a move to go, not, however, you may be sure, until she had seen Courage tucked away in her own bed, and dropping off into the soundest sort of a sleep the moment her tired little head touched the pillow. But before Miss Julia actually gave the reins to her ponies for the homeward drive there was a vigorous hand-shaking on all sides, for the exciting experiences of the last hour had made them all feel very near to each other.
“Well, Julia, we must do something for that precious child,” said Mrs. Everett as soon as the ponies struck the dirt road, and it was less of an effort to speak than when their hoofs were clattering noisily on the bridge.
“And what had it best be?” asked Miss Julia, and yet with her own mind quite made up on the subject.
“Nothing less than to have her make her home with us always.”
“Nothing less,” said Miss Julia earnestly.
“Bless her brave heart! nothing less,” chimed in Mr. Everett; “but what will become of poor Larry?”
True enough! what would become of poor Larry? and would it be right to ask him to make such a sacrifice? It was not necessary, however, to discuss all the details of the beautiful plan just then, and even Mr. Everett, who had raised the question, had faith to believe that somehow or other everything could be satisfactorily arranged. For the remainder of the drive home not a word was spoken. People who have just been face to face with a great peril, and realize it, are likely to find thoughts in their hearts quite too deep for utterance and too solemn.