“Come at once, Joseph! At once.”
“Does not the master trust his friend? It is the time to come. Therefore, I am here.”
“Of course. I just thought about that. But, Joseph, the master is ill. He knows nothing any more. If he ever needed you, he needs you doubly now. Come, come at once.”
Then, indeed, though there was little outward expression of it, was old Joseph moved. He stopped for nothing, but leaving his fire burning on the hearth and his supper cooking before it, went out and closed the door. Even Margot’s nimble feet had ado to keep pace with his long strides, and she had to spring before him to prevent his pushing off without her.
“No, no. I’m going with you. Here—I’ll tow my own boat, with Tom and Reynard—don’t you squabble, pets—but I’ll paddle no more while you’re here to do it for me.”
Joseph did not answer, but he allowed her to seat herself where she pleased, and with one strong movement sent his big birch a long distance over the water.
Margot had never made the passage so swiftly, but the motion suited her exactly; and she leaped ashore almost before it was reached, to speed up the hill and call out to Angelique wherever she might be:
“All is well! All will now be well—Joseph has come.”
The Indian reached the house but just behind her and acknowledged Angelique’s greeting with a sort of grunt; yet he paused not at all to ask the way or if he might enter the master’s room, passing directly into it as if by right.
Margot followed him, cautioning, with finger on lip, anxious lest her patient should be shocked and harmed by the too-sudden appearance of the visitor.