“I know you haven't. God has taken care of you, hasn't he, Zeke? Do you think it's right for me not to tell grandpa? I've decided that I'll do whatever you say.”
It was the wisdom of the serpent and the harmlessness of the dove. Zeke, nervously fingering the whip handle, looked down into the guileless face and mentally vowed never to betray the trust he saw there.
“Then don't tell him, Jewel,” he returned rather thickly, for the fullness in his throat. “You come out to the barn the way you said you would, and we'll talk over things. I don't care if the boys do laugh. I've sworn off. I believe you helped Essex Maid the other night. I believe you can help me.”
Jewel's eyes were joyful. “If you know you want help, Zeke, then you'll get it. Mother says that's the first thing. Mortal mind is so proud.”
“Mine ain't strutting much,” returned Zeke as he drove on.
Jewel amused herself about the grounds until the phaeton should return with her grandfather.
When she saw it coming she ran down to the gate and hopped and skipped back beside it, Mr. Evringham watching her gyrations unsmilingly.
As he dismounted at the piazza she clung to his hand going up the steps. “Which are you going to do, grandpa, go riding or play golf?”
“Which do you want me to do?” he asked.
“When you ride it's more fun for me,” she replied.