“I'd like to be sure of that,” he answered, his gloved hand on the pommel.
“What do you mean?” incredulously. “You don't like that automobile better, do you? They're so—so stubby. I must have a horse, a horse!” She smoothed and patted her steed lovingly.
“You ought to have—Jewel of the world,” he said kindly. “My bad angel!” he added, looking up quizzically into her eyes, and smiling at the widening wonder that grew in them.
“Your—what?” she asked, and then Eloise came out in her habit.
“I'm going instead of you,” cried the child gayly, “to pay you for staying away all day.”
“Did you miss me?” asked the girl as she shook hands with her escort.
“I tried not to. Anna Belle and I have something to show you in the ravine.” As she spoke, Jewel slid down into the doctor's arms, and stood on the steps watching while he put Eloise up and mounted himself.
The child's eyes dwelt upon the pair admiringly as they waved their hands to her and rode away. Little she knew how their hearts were beating. Mrs. Evringham, watching from an upper window, suspected it. She felt that this afternoon would end all suspense.
The child gave a wistful sigh as the horses disappeared, and jumping off the piazza, she wandered around the house toward the stable. There had been no rules laid down to her since the night of Essex Maid's attack, and Zeke was always a congenial companion.
As she neared the barn a young fellow left it, laughing. She knew who he was,—one of the young men Zeke had known in Boston. He had several times of late come to call on his old chum, for he was out of work.