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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."