Jean regarded him with undisguised amazement as she answered simply:
“Why of course! That would be deceit if I didn’t. I’ll have to be punished, but I guess I ought to be,” was the naïve conclusion.
The fine face before her was transfigured as Hadyn Stuyvesant answered:
“Good! Your principles are all right. Stick to them and I’ll want to know you when you are a woman. Now I must get you home for I’ve a word to say to your mother, to whom I mean to introduce myself under the circumstances,” and carrying her to his two-seated depot wagon, he placed her upon the front seat. Jabe glowered at him from the rear one. His horse turned his head with an inquiring nicker.
“Yes, Comet, I’ll be ready pretty soon,” he replied, pausing a second to give a stroke to the satiny neck. Then turning to the men he said:
“Now, my men, let’s on with this job which has been delayed too long already.”
He did not spare himself, and presently old Baltie was out of the ditch and upon his feet—a sufficiently pathetic object to touch any heart.
“Shall I have the men lead him up to your barn?” asked Hadyn Stuyvesant, giving the surly object in his wagon a last chance to redeem himself.
“No! I’m done with him; do your worst,” was the gruff answer.
“Very well,” the words were ominously quiet, “then I shall take him in charge.”