I could not have helped admiring Ben. He had such a good, strong face. All the boys were well looking, none as handsome as Dan, but it seemed to me later on in life as if each to a certain degree carried his character in his face.
"So now we have had a good talk," continued Ben—he had done all the talking—"and we understand the ground we go upon. You know you are the dearest girl to all of us. I shall never forget the night you came. And we will be the best of friends."
Could I refuse when the tender eyes looked up so confidently?
"The best of friends," I returned, and I felt the solemnity of my own voice.
It was true that Ben's new plans were rather frowned upon. His employer was sorry to lose him.
"There's lots of money made in speculation," said Mr. Hayne, "and lots lost as well. Stands to reason values can't always increase, and immigrants can't always come in. We have a big country, with other lakes and rivers, and the whole Atlantic coast for shipping. Then it seems rather shifty business to me for steady company."
Ben did not mind, however. There were some new and exciting questions to greet the new President and his Cabinet. The boundary of Oregon and British America almost stirred up warfare, and a new difficulty loomed up when the State of Texas, an independent principality, asked to enter the Union. Mexico objected, and there was a talk of war. We had many things on hand, streets and the muddy old river, and at last the canal that was going to do so much for us approaching completion. Every year a greater demand for wheat and corn and live stock. Father added field to field, it seemed a passion with him.
The next spring there came a little girl to Homer and Sophie Hayne. I think Mrs. Hayne was the gladdest of all. The little girl of her own blood that she had so longed for. A sweet, good little thing who seldom cried and smiled readily.
They were all prosperous. Homer began to build houses and sell them. Dan was steady, and turning his attention largely to cattle raising and buying, and had an interest in packing. He had a room now at the hotel, and seemed to care little for girls, though he was not averse to social pleasures. His one passion was Chita, who was kept beautifully groomed. He raced her now and then. She was the mother of a splendid colt. He used to talk to her as if she was a human being, and I think she understood every word.
As for Mr. Le Moyne, the treatment had failed. Norman had promised to remain with him. They would reside in Paris and travel.