A laugh at honest Joe’s expense, in which he heartily joined, followed this and Lady Jess stepped down among her friends, holding out her hands to first one, then another. Her blue eyes were filled with happy moisture, for she was not too young to feel their devotion to be as unselfish as it was sincere, and her smile was full of confidence in them and in herself.
“Eleven years old is pretty early to be a captain, I guess, but I’ll be a good one–just as good and true as you are! What I don’t know you’ll teach me, and if I make mistakes you’ll be patient, I know. One thing I can do, I can copy bills and papers. I can put down figures and add them up. It was good practice for me, my father said. So I’ll put down your names and all your business in these new books he bought and was going to use in his co–co-operation–is that right, John?”
“Right as a trivet.”
“And our admiral, that’s the dear mother, will not have to fret so any longer. Between us we’ll make Sobrante all my father meant it should be and–as soon as I have my breakfast–I will find that title. I must find it. I will. Sobrante is yours and ours forever. Oh, boys, I love you! I’m all choked up–I love you so and I feel like that my father used to read in Dickens: ‘God bless you every one!’”
With her hands clasped close against her breast, and her beloved face luminous with her deep affection, their little maid stood before her hardy henchmen, a symbol to them of all that was best and purest in life. Their own eyes were moist, and even Mr. Hale had to take off his glasses and wipe them as, looking around upon his comrades, great Samson swung his hat and cried:
“And may God bless Our Lady Jess! And may every man who seeks to injure her be–stricken with numb palsy! And may every crop be doubled, prices likewise! Peace, prosperity and happiness to Sobrante–destruction to her enemies!”
“Forgiveness for her enemies, Samson, dear, if there really are. That will be nobler, more like father’s rule. Make it peace, prosperity and happiness to all the world! Hurrah! hurrah! hurrah!”
Mr. Hale clapped his hands to his ears, then hastily moved forward and joined in the cheer, that was deafening enough to have come from many more throats than uttered it. Yet he had an uncomfortable feeling that he might be classed among those “enemies” whom Samson wished afflicted with numb palsy and that, at that moment, he was, by no fault of his own, playing a double part.
But he gave himself the benefit of the doubt until he should learn, as he meant to do at once, the whole history of Sobrante with its strange hodge-podge of industries, its veteran employees, and its childish “captain.” So, while the ranchmen dispersed to their business and Jessica sought her long-delayed breakfast, he turned towards the kitchen where he hoped to find the mistress of the ranch.
But he was disappointed. There was visible only the broad, purple-covered back and black pig-tail of a Chinaman, pounding away at the snowy loaves of his kneading-board, as if they were “enemies” of his own and deserving something much worse than “numb palsy.”