"Your daughter is here, Mrs. Cross," said Will, in an undertone,
stepping toward the limp and pallid lady.
"Bertha," she cried. "Bertha, are you there? Oh, come and thank Mr.
Jollyman! If you knew what has happened whilst you were away!"
At the room door appeared the girl's astonished face. Warburton's
eyes fell upon her.
"It's a wonder you find me alive, dear," pursued the mother. "If one
of those blows had fallen on my head--!"
"Let me explain," interposed Warburton quietly. And in a few words
he related the events of the afternoon.
"And Mr. Jollyman was just getting me a clip of tea, Bertha," added
Mrs. Cross. "I do feel ashamed that he should have had such
trouble."
"Mr. Jollyman has been very kind indeed," said Bertha, with look and
tone of grave sincerity. "I'm sure we cannot thank him enough."
Warburton smiled as he met her glance.
"I feel rather guilty in the matter," he said, "for it was I who
suggested the servant. If you will let me, I will do my best to
atone by trying to find another and a better."
"Run and make the tea, my dear," said Mrs. Cross. "Perhaps Mr.
Jollyman will have a cup with us--"
This invitation was declined. Warburton sought for his hat, and took
leave of the ladies, Mrs. Cross overwhelming him with gratitude, and
Bertha murmuring a few embarrassed words. As soon as he was gone,
mother and daughter took hands affectionately, then embraced with
more tenderness than for a long, long time.
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