A little later, as the dark gathered, she begged two candles and stood them on the stand beside the bed. Something in her movements or the flickering light must have pierced his stupor, for Joseph moaned slightly and in a moment opened his eyes.
Patsy leaned over him tenderly; could she only keep him content until the mother came and guard the mysterious borderland against all fear or pain, “Laddy, laddy,” she coaxed, “do ye mind me—now?”
The veriest wisp of a smile answered her.
“And were ye for playing Jack yourself, tramping off to find the castle with a window in it for every day in the year?” Her voice was full of gentle, teasing laughter, the voice of a mother playing with a very little child. “I’m hoping ye didn’t forget the promise—ye didn’t forget to ask for the blessing before ye went, now?”
No sound came; but the boy’s lips framed a silent “No.” In another moment his eyes were drooping sleepily.
Night had come, and with it the insistent chorus of tree-toad and katydid, interspersed with the song of the vesper sparrow. From the kitchen came the occasional rattle of dish or pan and the far-away murmur of voices. Patsy strained her ears for some sound of car or team upon the road; but there was none.
Again the lids fluttered and opened; this time Joseph smiled triumphantly. “I thought—p’r’aps—I hadn’t found you—after all—there was—so many ways—you might ha’ went.” He moistened his lips. “At the cross-roads—I wasn’t quite—sure which to be takin’, but I took—the right one, I did—didn’t I?”
There was a ring of pride in the words, and Patsy moistened her lips. Something clutched at her throat that seemed to force the words back. “Aye,” she managed to say at last.