There was no pretence about the sincerity of her pleasure. Her sparkling eyes and dimpling face declared that without words; and, to his utter amazement, Judge Courtenay saw that the pleasure was mutual, for, instead of showing fear or resentment, or any trace of forgetfulness, up marched Diablo, with all the eagerness in the world, and extended his handsome nose with a neigh of salutation.
“Well—well—well! Has the age of miracles returned?” exclaimed the observer, almost unable to believe his own eyes.
But when Diablo’s friendliness was forced to extend to himself, and when, after an hour or two of a “lesson” which the gray-haired pupil enjoyed beyond expression, he was able to lead the “unbreakable brute” quietly out of the paddock to the “track,” his delight knew no bounds.
“Upon my word, my little lady, I am your debtor to a very great extent. I am ready to give you anything you ask!”
“Huyler’s!” suggested Beatrice, in an eager whisper. “Ask him for ‘Huyler’s’—do!”
“No conspiracy! What’s that you’re whispering, missy?”
“Now, Papa! You said ‘anything,’ and I thought—candy.”
“Is ‘Huyler’s’ candy? Pooh! I don’t care for that. I want you to do something, though, Beatrice. Will you?”
“Course. What?”
“Let me show you how to ride. On my own Tito, that nobody ever rode but me, that could be helped, that—Oh, you know!”