That was the end of sorrow, the beginning of joy. Posy opened her beautiful eyes: God let her live, and not die.
It was a happy, happy house; but was any one happier than Pollio when they brought him in, and told him he might kiss her on her white lips?
“I tried to take care of her,” sobbed the brave boy; “but the boat went and busted right up, and I couldn’t help it.”
“To be sure you couldn’t, my little man: we all know you did your best,” replied papa, not laughing at all.
Then he picked up something from the floor, and gave it to his wife, saying,—
“Let us always keep this precious token.”
It was Posy’s rosebud.
They did not know till next day that Hop-clover had been in the kitchen all the while, waiting for news from Posy.
“The child has a feeling heart,” said Jane Roarty; “and so you’d ha’ thought, Miss Pitcher, if you’d seen her cry in my arms last night.”