No, Sarp, I mus'
take her back. She's delicate, Miss Emma is. I'd like to go right well,
Sarp,--'ta'n't much ob a 'sapp'intment,--I's use' to 'em,--I'd like for
to go wid you."
Lingering, irresolute, she stood up in the swaying skiff, keeping her
balance as if she were dancing; then, the motion, perhaps, throwing her
back into her old identity, she sprang to the shore like a cat. Sarp
laid Miss Emma beside her, and then shot away, back over all the
desolate reaches and lonely shining pools; and Flor, with a little wail
of despair, hid her face on the ground, that her weakened and bewildered
little mistress might not see the flood of tears that wet the grass
beneath it.
It was between two and three o'clock in the morning, when, chilled,
draggled, and dripping wet, they reached the house. Lights were moving
everywhere about it: no one had slept there that night. There was a
great shout from high and low as the two forlorn little objects crept
into the ray. Miss Emma was met with severe reproaches, afterwards with
tears and embraces; and cordial drinks and hot flannels were made ready
for her in a trice.
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