“Jimmy!” called Barbara again, her face crimsoning.
“I didn’t cut it off,” Jarvis replied, with every evidence of sincerity. “I bought the horse just that way. I don’t like it myself.”
He glanced at Barbara with a quiet smile.
“I’m afraid I’m very much in the way,” he said. “But I wanted to talk with you—on a matter of some importance.”
XVII
A silence, difficult to break, settled upon the man and the maid, as Jimmy’s plodding feet toiled up the stairs.
“Good-night, Barb’ra,” his wistful little voice called from the top of the stairs.
“Good-night, Jimmy dear,” she answered.