“Go with him, lady. Elsa won’t want to live down here and we’ll follow presently. Never had a woman seem so fond of my company, not in all my eighty years. H-m-m!”
Commonly, the most genial of men, the sharpshooter’s spirits had fully regained their normal poise. Since he had not been dismissed by Mrs. Trent, and since his little Jessica believed in him, everything was all right. Elsa had been hoarding so long for her overgrown “child” that she had lost her wits. He wasn’t surprised. She was a woman.
So, with a smile, he was able to watch the car disappear upward, and he even began to whistle, lest Elsa should improve this opportunity and resume her racket.
“No disrespect to you, ma’am, remembering the good victuals you’ve often given me, but kind of to keep my courage up, like the boy going through the woods.”
Elsa vouchsafed no reply, beyond grasping his sleeve firmly, as if to assure herself that he should not vanish through the solid wall behind them; and he, at least, was relieved when the little car came rolling downward again, empty.
Elsa, who understood its management as well as her husband, grasped its side and motioned Ephraim forward.
“Ladies first,” he objected, gallantly.
“Get in, wretch, already.”
“Oh! I’m not loath to get in, now. Even your sweet presence doesn’t make this hole a paradise. And I came down here a heavy-hearted man, yet I’ve going up light as a feather. Glad I’ve got you along to ballast, else I’d likely shoot clean up to the sky.”
Poor Elsa thought his hilarity ill-timed. She glared at him first, then began to weep, and her tears sobered him as no frowns could do.