“You know I told you—” moaned Pepsie, “you know I was afraid she’d get lost.”
“Yes, yes; but I thought I could trust Tiburce. The boy will never get over it; he told me the truth, thank Heaven; he said he just let go her hand for one moment, and there was such a crowd. If that fly-away of a Tite had kept on the other side it wouldn’t have happened, but she ran off as soon as they got on the street.”
“I thought so. I’ll pay her off,” said Pepsie vindictively.
“Come, come, Modeste,” called Paichoux from the door, “let’s be starting.”
“Oh, uncle!” cried Pepsie, imploringly, “do find Lady Jane.”
“Certainly, child, certainly, I’ll find her. I’ll have her back here in an hour or so. Don’t cry. It’s nothing for a young one to get lost Mardi-gras; I dare say there are a dozen at the police stations now, waiting for their people to come and get them.”
Just at that moment there was a sound of voices without, and Pepsie exclaimed: “That’s Lady Jane. I heard her speak.” Sure enough, the sweet, high-pitched little voice chattering merrily could be distinctly heard; and at the same instant Tite Souris burst into the room, exclaiming:
“Her’s here, Miss Peps’, bress der Lor’! I’s done found her”; and following close was Lady Jane, still holding fast to little Gex.
“Oh, Pepsie! Oh, I was lost!” she cried, springing into her friend’s arms. “I was lost, and Mr. Gex found me; and I struck a boy in the face, and he tore off my domino and mask, and I didn’t know what to do, when Mr. Gex came and kicked him into the gutter. Didn’t you, Mr. Gex?”
“Just to think of it!” cried Tante Modeste, embracing her, and almost crying over her, while Paichoux was listening to the modest account of the rescue, from the ancient dancing-master.