But for all their care Elsie was confined to her room for several weeks, and her recovery was slow and tedious.  They were all thankful, though, that nothing more serious resulted from exposure to the storm, which was the worst that had visited the country for several years.

Dexie had to tell the story over again when she went home; but she made light of it all, making much more fun out of their grand ride on horseback than either she or Elsie had experienced while partaking of it.  But the whole story came out when Lancy came in during the evening, and Mr. Sherwood’s look of tender solicitude contrasted strangely with the mother’s apparent unconcern, as the story of their adventure was related at length.

“I am forgetting that I was sent in here with a message,” Lancy said, a few minutes later.  “Elsie has been asking to see you, Dexie, and mother wishes to know if you are too tired to run in a few minutes.”

Dexie followed Lancy into his own door, and running swiftly up the stairs was soon bending over Elsie, who was wrapped up like a mummy.

“I did not want to see you for anything very particular,” Elsie said, in answer to Dexie’s inquiry.  “But I could not go to sleep for thinking of last night.  It seems so good to be in my own bed again, safe, after all my fears, that I wanted to tell you once more how sorry I am for being so cross with you; for I was awful cross, Dexie, when you talked so harshly to me.”

“Now, Elsie! don’t speak as if there were anything for you to be sorry for, or I shall have such qualms of conscience as will surely make me ill,” was Dexie’s laughing reply.

After a few minutes’ chat, Dexie left the room to return home, but Lancy was waiting at the bottom of the stairs, and he drew her into the parlor, saying: 

“Stay with me a little while, Dexie, do; no one will disturb us here, and I want to have a ‘sing.’  Your father or Gussie are sure to be in the parlor if we go into your house.”

“Well, it will have to be a short ‘sing,’ Lancy, for the drive in the wind has made me sleepy.”

When Mrs. Gurney passed the door a few minutes later, and peeped into the dimly lighted room to listen to the soft strains that met her ears, she smiled and softly withdrew, for Lancy was seated at the instrument, and Dexie stood by his side, her hand resting carelessly on his shoulder, while they sang what Mrs. Gurney knew was their private thanksgiving.

As the last notes died away, Lancy turned on the music-stool and took her hand; Dexie’s thoughts had been so engrossed that, for the moment, she let it rest there, when she heard the low-spoken words:  “I want to tell you something, Dexie.”

Instantly Elsie’s words flashed into her mind, and she tried to break away from the arm that encircled her waist.

“Let me go, Lancy,” was the startled cry.  “It is time I was home.”

“I will take you home presently, Dexie; I want to talk to you a few minutes first,” and catching her hands in his he held her close.