Her voice was low and nervous. She looked by no means sure of Bunny's reception of the news. Behind her came Jake Bolton the trainer, alert and self-assured. It was quite evident that he had no doubts whatever upon the subject. His thick mat of chestnut hair shone like copper in the brilliant electric light, such hair as would have been a woman's glory, but that Jake kept very closely cropped.
"What on earth for?" began Bunny querulously; and then magically his face changed, and he smiled. "Hullo! You?" he said.
Bolton came to his side and took the small, eager hand thrust out to him. "Yes, it's me," he said. "No objection, I hope?"
"I should think not!" The boy's face was glowing with pleasure. "Sit down!" he said. "Maud, get a chair!"
Bolton turned sharply, found her already bringing one and took it swiftly from her.
He sat down by Bunny's side, and took the little thin hand back into his. "Do you know, I've been thinking a lot about you," he said.
Bunny was vastly flattered. He liked the grasp of the strong fingers also, though he would not probably have tolerated such a thing from any but this stranger.
"Yes," pursued Jake, in his soft, level voice. "I reckon I've taken a fancy to you, little chap--I beg your pardon--Sir Bernard. How have you been to-day?"
"Don't call me that!" said Bunny, turning suddenly red.
"What?" Jake smiled upon him, his magic, kindly smile. "Am I to call you Bunny--like your sister--then?"