Meantime Harry and Brevet had appeared upon the scene, and astonished beyond measure at what they saw and heard, sat down on a bench beside the door and listened in mute wonder.
“But who,” said Mammy at last, when she could bring her confused thoughts into some sort of order, and with Sylvia still seated upon her lap, “who was de one to find all dis out for me?” turning toward Courage for an explanation. But Courage simply looked toward Joe for answer.
“Yes, Mammy,” replied Joe, leaning comfortably back against his pillows, the embodiment of dusky radiance, “I has dat honour, Mammy. Lyin’ here so helpless when I was first brought back ter de cabin, an’ watchin’ you an’ Sylvy move roun’ de room togeder, it came home ter me how you took after each oder in a hundred little ways, an’ den ’memberin’ how Sylvy had tol’ me one day how she knew nothin’ ’bout who b’longed ter her, it des ’spicioned me dat she might b’long to you, an’ so Miss Courage here, she wrote up to de ’sylum an’ de answer des come dis bery afternoon. But o’ co’se, as you know from Sylvy, dey couldn’t tell us nuffin, but ter ’mind Miss Courage of de little treasures Sylvy had in her possession, an’ den Miss Courage ’minded how Sylvy had once showed dem to her an’ how dere was somethin’ written in de little book, but o’ co’se we could not des be sure it was de same name as de ole plantation whar you lived till we sent for Sylvy an’ asked her. An’ oh! but it’s a happy day for Joe; de happiest day in all my life, an’ it’s all come of me being par’lysed an’ havin’ a chance ter notice,” and Joe spoke as though the paralysis was unquestionably something for which he had need to be devoutly thankful.
“Joe,” said Mammy, who had left her chair and was standing close at his bedside, “I’se been hard on you an’ unfair to you mos’ o’ my life, Joe,” and she stood looking down as shamefacedly as any little school culprit.
“Don’t you say nuffin, Mammy. Hasn’t I allers been hard on you an’ unfair to you?”
“Don’t either of you say anything,” interrupted Courage. “If ever two people in this world have made up for bygones, I think you two people have,” and Joe and Mammy shook their old heads in assent, for happily for them both they knew that Courage had spoken but the truth.
Meantime Brevet had slipped away and had enjoyed the exquisite pleasure of telling Mary Duff and the Bennetts the wonderful news, whereupon they had of course hurried pell-mell up to the cabin and joined in the general jubilation. It was well-nigh sunset before the good-byes were said—those last good-byes they had come for the purpose of saying—and before they were all started on their walk home.
Then Courage turned to Harry.
“I think I will run back and just tell Joe and Mammy——”
“Tell all the world,” said Harry, proudly, “the sooner the better.”