“Oh, will you?” he exclaimed. “You don’t know how much we want you—all of us.”
It was precisely what he might have done or said to Eva in boyish affection and comradeship.
“I’m going to stay,” she announced. “I’ve made up my mind. As soon as you are well I’m going to move down to my own place and really learn to work it. I’d love it!”
“And I’ll come down and help you with what little I know about oranges. Father will, too. We don’t know much—citrus growing is a little out of our line, though we have a small orchard here; but we’ll give you the best we’ve got. And it’ll be fine for Eva—she loves you. She cried the other day—the last time you mentioned in earnest that you might not stay.”
“She’s a dear!”
“She is all of that,” he said. “We have always had our fights—I suppose all brothers and sisters do—and we kid one another a lot; but there never was a sister like Eva. Just let any one else say anything against me! They’d have a fight on their hands right there, if Eva was around. And sunshine! The old place seems like a morgue every time she goes away.”
“She worships you, Custer.”
“She’s a brick!”
He could have voiced no higher praise.
He asked about the fire, and especially about the horses. He was delighted when she told him that a man had just come down to say that the fire was practically out, and the colonel was coming in shortly; and that the veterinary had been there and found the team not seriously injured.