“My Lawd-a-mighty, Miss Bev’ly, is yo’ hu’t? Is yo’ daid?”
It was a good enough bit of acting to have won the actor fame and fortune. As a matter of fact, Beverly gave one glance at the fly-away figure, then clasping both arms around Apache’s neck, buried her face in his mane and to all intents and purposes collapsed into a paroxysm of tears, to the entire dismay of Mr. Cushman, and the skeptical “sizing up” of the situation by Mr. Ford, more lately from the campus. It was Athol who promptly turned a few handsprings behind their backs and Archie who rolled over upon the grass chortling.
“Don’t be alarmed! Don’t be alarmed, my good man. Your young lady is none the worse for her involuntary run (just here a distinct snort came from the ground behind Mr. Cushman) though I dare say a little unstrung and exhausted. But we stopped her mount (“yes you did!” came sotto voce from Athol) and now we will lead your mistress back to the house where Mrs. Kilton will be delighted to minister to her comfort. Are you too nervous to ride to the rear entrance, Miss Ashby?” for during the few words spoken Mr. Cushman had discovered that this was Athol Ashby’s sister, had the resemblance left any doubt of that fact.
Beverly resumed an upright position, hastily wiped away her tears, (one can laugh as well as weep them) and answered:
“Oh, no sir. Of course I was a little startled at first, but Apache is never vicious, and it was only the need of exercise which made us—him—bolt, you know.”
The acrobat came to an upright position and very nearly upset the whole show.
Meantime Jefferson with many flutterings and gesticulations, had dismounted and managed to work his way to Archie’s side and whisper:
“Don’t yo’ let on, will yo’ suh?”
“Not on your sweet life. It’s the best ever. But where’s the rest of the bunch? There must be some. You always take out a full fledged seminary.”
“Praise Gawd der aint but fo’ dis time, an’ dey’s yander on de pike some—’ers. But I’se near scared blue.”