She edged herself a tiny bit into the passage.  It did not seem far, only along by the balusters and down the little stair to papa’s room; and just then came a sound which seemed to go straight to Biddy’s heart.  It was papa’s cough—­not a very bad one, just his usual little cough.  It seemed to waken her up—­till now she had felt almost as if in a sort of dream; it was so queer to feel and hear all the house-life going on the same as ever when she had been out of it so long, for ten or twelve days is a long time to a child—­but the sound of papa’s cough seemed to make everything real, to join the past and the present together again, still more, to touch a spring in Biddy which I think she had scarcely known was there.  And without stopping to think any more, off she set, along the passage and down the stair, till she found herself, breathless and rather giddy, but full of eagerness, at her father’s door.

It was open, as Celestina had said, and half shy now, Biddy peeped in.  He was lying on a couch between the fire and the window; it was a bright spring-like morning—­he had a book in his hand, but he did not seem to be reading; he was quite still, his eyes were gazing out to the clear blue sky, and the look in his face was very sweet.  Then again came the little cough.  That was the signal.  In rushed Biddy.

‘Papa, dear papa,’ she cried, as she half threw herself, half tumbled upon him, for she felt giddy again with moving so fast.  ’Dear papa, are you getting better?  Please don’t die, dear papa, and I will try to be good.  And oh, please forgive me, and don’t say I as good as killed you.’

‘My poor little Biddy,’ said Mr. Vane, raising himself so as to see her, and drawing her tenderly on to the couch beside him,—­’my poor little Biddy.  So you’ve come to see me at last!  And are you getting better, dear?’

’Yes, yes, papa, but please tell me you’re not going to die because of me,’ and Biddy began to cry, but gently, not in her old way.

Mr. Vane tried to speak, but his cough was troublesome.

‘I think I’m a little better, dear,’ he said, ’and, please God, I hope to be better yet.  And it will be a great help to me if I see you quite well again, and trying to be of use to mamma, Biddy, and to Alie.  You can help to nurse me, you know.’

Biddy looked up.  The very things Celestina had said!

‘Papa!’ she said, ’might I really?  Would mamma let me?  Will everybody forgive me?’

Was it Biddy speaking?  Even her father could scarcely believe it.

Just at that moment Mrs. Vane came hurriedly into the room:  she had been to Biddy’s, on receiving Celestina’s message, and finding the bird flown, had naturally taken alarm.

‘Biddy!’ she exclaimed, as she caught sight of the child beside her father, his arm round her, her eager flushed face looking up at him—­and her tone was rather anxious and annoyed.  But Mr. Vane glanced at his wife with a little sign which she understood.  She came quickly towards them.