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CHAPTER VIII.
AFTER THE FROLIC.
Reaction followed excitement. Josephine
had never been so tired, no, not even during
her long railway journey. She had laughed
and shouted till her throat ached; her eyes
were still dazzled by the gleam of sunlight
upon snow; and her clothing was wet through.
She stepped from the "Firefly" and climbed
the cold marble stoop, holding on to Peter's
hand as if without its aid she could not have
mounted it at all. She allowed him to take off
her hat and cloak, without protesting that she
liked to do things for herself, and sat down by
the register with a shiver of content.
"Tired, little missy?"
"Terrible tired, Peter, thank you."
"Massa Joe's takin' his luncheon, Miss Josephine."
