For an hour he taught her the laws of bit and bridle and saddle and horse nature; and she took to it all, as a duck takes to water, quick, fearless, bubbling over with joy.
“You’ll make a horsewoman, Peg,” Archibald said, as he lifted her down from the saddle at last. “I’ll have you jumping fences, before the summer is over.”
“Miss Moran used to. She’d make her horse jump anything. Mr. Meredith and she didn’t pay a bit of attention to fences—unless there was something they didn’t want to trample down.”
Archibald turned to her quickly.
“Meredith? Who’s Meredith?”
Pegeen settled herself comfortably for a bit of gossip. She loved to tell Archibald about people. He was always so interested.
“Why, he’s the one that’s going to marry Miss Moran,” she explained. “Anyway, that’s what everybody thinks; but they don’t seem to be in a very big hurry about it. He’s awfully rich and he goes scooting off to Europe and around the world and everywhere; but he comes up here every summer and stays a long while—over in Pittsfield. I guess he couldn’t stand boarding anywhere around here. He looks as if he’d be real particular. But he comes over most every day in a motor car, and he and Miss Moran have perfectly beautiful times. He’s lots older than she is—only I don’t believe he’s as old as his hair is. It’s gray; but his face doesn’t match it very well—except his eyes. Sometimes they look sort of old and sad. He’s real handsome—and nice too; only he’s nice in a proud way—not a bit like you. I couldn’t ever see to him. I wouldn’t suit—but he’d buy me anything I needed—if somebody’d tell him I needed it. I guess most rich people are like that. They want to be kind to poor folks, but they don’t know how. I don’t see how you ever found out exactly the right way. It isn’t just giving money. It’s being friends. Mr. Meredith couldn’t neighbor the way you do, no matter how hard he tried. Miss Moran takes him around to see folks and he’s as nice and polite as can be; but everybody knows he’s come just to please her and that he’ll never come again unless she brings him. He gave the money for the free library down in Pisgah and he fixed up the schoolhouse, and when Joe Daniels got hurt last summer Mr. Meredith had a big doctor come all the way from New York to mend Joe’s back, and when the Potters were going to be put out of their house and hadn’t a bit of money he paid off the mortgage and got Mr. Potter a job over in Pittsfield—but he didn’t do any of it for the Valley. He did it for Miss Moran. I’ll bet he wouldn’t know Joe Daniels or Mr. Potter if he’d meet them on the road. So, you see, nobody bothers about being grateful to him. They’re just grateful to Miss Moran. I suppose she’s grateful to him, and that’s all he wants; but I’d hate not to get more fun out of doing things for people than he does. I’d want to see them being happy because I’d done the things, wouldn’t you? My stars, but I do love to see people being happy, when it’s my doings.”
“What makes you think Miss Moran is going to marry him?” Archibald asked. He did not seem as interested in abstract discussions as he usually did.
“Why, anybody can see that he wants her to.”
“And she?”