Meg’s heart at rest,” thought John, creeping to the bedside, hoping to find his rebellious heir asleep.
But he wasn’t; for the moment his father peeped at him, Demi’s eyes opened, his little chin began to quiver, and he put up his arms, saying, with a penitent hiccup, “Me’s dood, now.”
Sitting on the stairs, outside, Meg wondered at the long silence which followed the uproar; and, after imagining all sorts of impossible accidents, she slipped into the room, to set her fears at rest. Demi lay fast asleep; not in his usual spread-eagle attitude, but in a subdued bunch, cuddled close in the circle of his father’s arm and holding his father’s finger, as if he felt that justice was tempered with mercy, and had gone to sleep a sadder and a wiser baby. So held, John had waited with womanly patience till the little hand relaxed its hold; and, while waiting, had fallen asleep, more tired by that tussle with his son than with his whole day’s work.