“Never you mind, Bob! Let the Little Un alone. Ain’t she happy? Ain’t she a purty sight? Brim full o’ smiles an’ chipper as a wren? What more do ye want?”
“Nothin’. But ’pears ter me she needn’t be so powerful glad ’bout leavin’ us. I—don’t feel much like laughin’. And she’d oughter be practisin’.”
“Don’t worrit. It’ll be all right. Little Un’s square. She won’t ferget us, you bet! An’ she’ll do the ‘great act’ all the better fer bein’ light-hearted. Land! I only hope them cold-blooded Easterners’ll make her half as glad as she’s always be’n at San’ Felis’! But—ain’t it gittin’ nigh dinner-time? Folks air beginnin’ ter come a’ready. Understan’ the spread, general, ain’t ter be till afterwards?”
“No. An’ the one ’t carries off first prize is ter perside. Well. I hope it’ll be our ‘Mascot.’ Do me prouder ’n if it was myself.”
“Me, too,” echoed his comrade, and departed to snatch a hasty luncheon.
At the same moment, Lord Plunkett announced, breathlessly: “I—I can’t. Stop. Wait. Hungry. As—a—grizzly. Ever since—I came. Beats everything. Appetite. Come. Eat.”
“Oh, you dear, funny man! However can you think about eating—now? Why, I just want one o’clock to come so much I can’t wait!”
“Eh? What? Not afraid? Ride—same’s nobody here?”
“Why—yes,” answered Steenie, slowly, as this new idea presented itself. “Why shouldn’t I? Indeed, I ought to do a great, great deal better; ’cause I wouldn’t like to dis’point dear old Bob. Nor you,” she added politely.
“Hm-m. Bob first. Then—me. Hm-m. You’re no—Anglomaniac. See that. Plain.”