“Are you Mrs. Bernard Carruth’s little daughter? I knew her nephew well when at college, although I’ve been away from Riveredge so long that I’ve lost track of her and her family.”
“Yes, she is my mother. Mr. Bernard Carruth was my father,” and a little choke came into Jean’s voice, for, although not yet eight years of age when her father passed out of her life, Jean’s memory of him was a very tender one, and she sorely missed the kind, cheery, sympathetic companionship he had given his children. Hadyn Stuyvesant was quick to note the catch in the little girl’s voice, and the tears which welled up to her eyes, and a strong arm was placed about her waist to draw her a little closer to his side, as, changing the subject, he said very tenderly:
“You have had an exciting hour, little one. Sit close beside me and don’t try to talk; just rest, and let me do the talking. We must go slowly on Baltie’s account; the poor old horse is badly knocked about and stiffened up. Suppose we go right to Mr. Pringle’s livery stable and ask him to take care of him a few days any way. Don’t you think that would be a good plan?”
“But who will pay for him? Don’t you have to pay board for horses just like people pay their board?” broke in Jean anxiously.
Hadyn Stuyvesant smiled at the practical little being his arm still so comfortingly encircled.
“I guess the Society can stand the expense,” he answered.
“Has it got lots of money to do such things with?” asked Jean, bound to get at the full facts.
“I’m afraid it hasn’t got ‘lots of money’—I wish it had,—but I think it can pay a week’s board for old Baltie in consideration of what you have done for him. It will make you happier to know he will be comfortable for a little while any way, won’t it?”
“Oh, yes! yes! And, and—perhaps I could pay the next week’s if we didn’t find somebody the first week. I’ve got ’most five dollars in my Christmas bank. I’ve been saving ever since last January; I always begin to put in something on New Year’s day, if it’s only five cents, and then I never, never take any out ’till it’s time to buy our next Christmas presents. And I really have got ’most five dollars, and would that be enough for another week?” and the bonny little face was raised eagerly to her companion’s. Hadyn Stuyvesant then and there lost his heart to the little creature at his side. It is given to very few “grown-ups” to slip out of their own adult years and by some magical power pick up the years of their childhood once more, with all the experiences and view-points of that childhood, but Hadyn Stuyvesant was one of those few. He felt all the eagerness of Jean’s words and his answer held all the confidence and enthusiasm of her ten years rather than his own twenty-three.
“Fully enough. But we will hope that a home may be found for Baltie before the first week has come to an end. And here we are at Mr. Pringle’s. Raulsbury I shall have to ask you to get out here,” added Mr. Stuyvesant, as he, himself, sprang from the depot wagon to the sidewalk.