Page:Further Chronicles of Avonlea (1920).djvu/121

Rh her face was stained with tears, and her dark hair hung loose over her shoulders in little, glossy ringlets like a child’s. She seemed to be very tired, and at intervals she wrung her small hands together.

She showed no surprise when she met me, but only held out her hands to me as if glad to see me.

“I followed him — but I could not overtake him,” she said witha sob. “I did my best — I hurried so; but he was always a little way ahead. And then I lost him — and so I came back. But I did my best — indeed I did. And oh, I am so tired!”

“Josie, dearest, what do you mean, and where have you been?” I said, drawing her close to me. “Why did you go out so — alone in the night?”

She looked at me wonderingly.

“How could I help it, David? He called me. I had to go.”

“Who called you?”

“The child,” she answered in a whisper. “Our child, David — our pretty boy. I awakened in the darkness and heard him calling to me down on the shore. Such a sad, little wailing cry, David, as if he were cold and lonely and wanted his mother. I hurried out to him, but I could not find him. I could only hear the call, and I followed it on and on, far down the shore. Oh, I tried so hard to overtake it, but I could not. Once I saw a little white hand beckoning to me far ahead in the