"That's right. No one else has any business in here. There's lots of trickery about horse-racing, Uncle Peter, so don't let a soul get within arm's length of The Prince!"
"Yo' neen' pester yo' haid 'bout dat, suh!"
"Miss Dudley has not yet returned, but the Major will be here tomorrow afternoon, and so will I. You ride The Prince, Uncle Peter?"
A pair of indignant white eyeballs rolled towards the questioner.
"Yo' 'low I gwi' let any udder nigguh git straddle dis hoss! Yes, suh, I ride 'im, 'n' I ride 'im at de head ob de whole bunch!"
"He is looking splendid," John replied, and then he inspected the box stall carefully, seeing that there were no holes in which a horse might catch his foot and go lame. Then, with a few parting injunctions to Peter, he left the grounds. He remembered that the afternoon train from the East arrived at half past three, and there might be a letter. Fifteen minutes later he was turning in the driveway in front of the Dudley mansion. There were people on the portico, and at first glance he saw that one was Julia, still in her traveling dress. And there was the Major—but the third was an old man he had never seen before. Probably some resident of Macon, who, learning of the Major's recent indisposition, had come out for a friendly chat.
Glenning hitched his horse to a post at one side and turned eagerly to the house. Julia met him at the steps with eyes swimming in tears, and a face suffused with happiness.
"There's been some awful mistake!" she whispered, squeezing his hand unconsciously. "Uncle Arthur is not dead at all; he is here with us!"
It would be useless to attempt a description of the many feelings which assailed the young man when he heard this news. But his surprise and confusion were covered by the Major, who advanced joyfully on the instant, and took his hand.
"My brother—Doctor Glenning! Lost for over half a lifetime and home again by the grace o' God in time to see a Dudley hoss walk away from the pick o' Marston's stables! Sit down, all o' you! Bless me, such a day! Daughter and brother on the same train, and neither knew each other till they met here on this portico! Arthur, my boy, this is better than a julep with the thuhmometuh at ninety-nine in the shade—'pon my soul! And all this mess about you bein' dead and the money comin' in the nick o' time to keep us out o' the po'-house—"