“Baltie you are to be envied, old fellow,” said Hadyn Stuyvesant, laughing softly, and nodding significantly to Pringle. “She was his first friend in his misery. I’ll tell you about it later, but I must be off now or her family will have me up for a kidnapper. I’ll be back in about an hour.”
Ten minutes’ swift bowling along behind Hadyn Stuyvesant’s beautiful “Comet” brought them to the Carruth home. Dusk was already beginning to fall as the short autumn day drew to its end, and Mrs. Carruth,—mother above all other things—stood at the window watching for this youngest daughter, regarding whom she never felt quite at ease when that young lady was out of her sight. When she saw a carriage turning in at her driveway and that same daughter perched upon the front seat beside a total stranger she began to believe that there had been some foundation for the misgivings which had made her so restless for the past hour. Opening the door she stepped out upon the piazza to meet the runaway, and was greeted with:
“Oh mother, mother, I’ve had such an exciting experience! I started to see Amy Fletcher, but before I got there I found him in the ditch and lame and muddy and dirty, and I went up to tell Jabe he must go get him out and then I got awful angry and banged him with my umbrella, and then I cried and he found me,” with a nod toward her companion, “and he got him out of the ditch and gave Jabe such a scolding and took him to Mr. Pringle’s and he’s going to curry-comb him and get the mud all off of him and take care of him a week any way, and two weeks if I’ve got enough money in my bank and—and—”
“Mercy! mercy! mercy!” cried Mrs. Carruth, breaking into a laugh and raising both hands as though to shield her head from the avalanche of words descending upon it. Hadyn Stuyvesant strove manfully to keep his countenance lest he wound the feelings of his little companion, but the situation was too much for him and his genial laugh echoed Mrs. Carruth’s as he sprang from the depot wagon and raising his arms toward the surprised child said:
“Let me lift you out little maid, and then I think perhaps you can give your mother a clearer idea as to whether it is Jabe Raulsbury, or old Baltie which is covered with mud and about to be curry-combed. Mrs. Carruth, let me introduce myself as Hadyn Stuyvesant. I knew your nephew when I was at college, and on the strength of my friendship for him, must beg you to pardon this intrusion. I came upon your little daughter not long since playing the part of the Good Samaritan to Raulsbury’s poor old horse. She had tackled a job just a little too big for her, so I volunteered to lend a hand, and together we made it go.”
As he spoke Hadyn Stuyvesant removed his hat and ascended the piazza steps with hand outstretched to the sweet-faced woman who stood at the top. She took the extended hand, her face lighting with the winning smile which carried sunshine to all who knew her, and in the present instance fell with wonderful warmth upon the man before her, for barely a year had passed since his mother had been laid away in a beautiful cemetery in Switzerland, and the tie between that mother and son had been a singularly tender one.
“I have often heard my nephew speak of you, Mr. Stuyvesant, and can not think of you as a stranger. I regret that we have not met before, but I understand you have lived abroad for several years. I am indebted to you for bringing Jean safely home, but quite at a loss to understand what has happened. Please come in and tell me. Will your horse stand?”
“He will stand as long as I wish him to. But I fear I shall intrude upon you?” and a questioning tone came into his voice.
“How could it be an intrusion under the circumstances? Come.”
“In a moment, then. I must throw the blanket over Comet,” and running down the steps he took the blanket from the seat and quickly buckled it upon the horse which meanwhile nosed him and nickered.