“Why? What for?”
“’Cause. Won’t you?”
“Will he run away?”
“He never did such a mean thing in all his darling life! Swing her up, dear Sutro, please!”
Sutro lifted Beatrice, who uttered a little squeal, half of terror, half of pleasure, and placed her squarely on Steenie’s own comfortable saddle. Then followed “lesson two,” while the Judge continued his own experiments in horse-training on another part of the course. At the close of which, all came gayly together at the entrance, and not a face showed any care,—not even Sutro’s, who had now relegated to that convenient “mañana” of his, the time when he should “die.”
“Really, little Steenie, can I not serve you in some practical way? I wish to do so most heartily,” asked the master of Rookwood, gratefully.
“Yes, sir. You can give me some advice. I mean if you will,” answered she.
“Heigho! my practice is increasing!” thought the legal magnate. Aloud he said: “To the best of my ability.”
“I want to earn some money. I want to show other little girls how to ride, same as I showed Beatrice, here. An’ maybe to teach other folks horses, too, like Diablo. ’Cause we’re ‘ruined,’ Grandmother says; an’ she’s an old lady, an’ my father’s blind, an’—an’—Can I?”
“Wh-e-ew! You baby, you!”