A few charred remnants had gone floating down the
stream and these fugitive remnants drifting into tiny coves and lodging
in the river's bends were shown by the riverside dwellers as memorials
of the event which had stirred the countryside more than any other item,
of neighborhood history. Under the gaping space of disconnected road
the stream flowed placidly, uninterrupted by all the recent hubbub
above it. The straight highway looked strange without the bridge.
Pepsy had a fever all that night, but toward morning she fell asleep,
and Aunt Jamsiah, who had watched her through the night, tiptoed into
the little room under the eaves and out again to tell Pee-Wee that he
had better wait, that all Pepsy needed now was rest.
"Can't I just look at her?" Pee-Wee asked. So he was allowed to
stand in the doorway and see his partner as she lay there sleeping
the good sleep of utter exhaustion.
"When she wakes up," Aunt Jamsiah said pleasantly.
Pee-Wee knew the circumstances of her being found at the burning
bridge and brought home, but he asked no questions and Aunt Jamsiah
said nothing of the events of that momentous night. It seemed to be
generally understood that this matter was in Aunt Jamsiah's hands
for thorough consideration later.
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