She added no prayers, for these were too deep in her heart for outward utterance; but she felt her own courage ebbing, and that if the parting were not speedy she could not at all endure it. Until that moment she had not realized how complete was her dependence upon Jessica’s protecting tenderness; and turning, toward her home hid thus the tears she would not have her daughter see.
But neither could Lady Jess have seen them, because of the sudden mist in her own. All her eagerness for the journey was gone, and her courage was fast following it. If the start were not made at once it would never be.
“Good-by, mother. Good-by, all! Come, Ephraim! Go, go–Scruff!”
A moment later the travelers were disappearing down the sandy road, and upon those whom they had left behind had fallen an intolerable burden of foreboding and loneliness.
“Desolation of desolations! That’s what this old ranch’ll be till that there little bunch of human sunshine comes safely back to it. A crazy trip, a crazy parcel of folks to let her take it. That’s what we are,” said John Benton, savagely kicking the horseblock to vent his painful emotion.
“Oh, dear! Oh, dear! And I never remembered to put in that guava jell!” moaned a voice of woe.
“Then, mother, just trot it out to us for dinner,” said her son, “we’ll take that burden off your mind.”
“You will? Have you a heart to eat good victuals, John Benton, when that sweet child has just thrust herself into a den of lions, and lawyers, and liars, and–and–things?”
“Oh, hush! Lions! The notion!”
“Well, you can’t deny there’s bears, anyway,” she retorted, with ready dolefulness. “Ephy’s shot ’em himself in his younger days.”