“Yes; it’s all right, old man. Just you stand till I want you,” said his master, giving the pretty head an affectionate pat which the horse acknowledged by shaking it up and down two or three times. Hadyn Stuyvesant then mounted the steps once more and followed Mrs. Carruth and Jean into the house, across the broad hall into the cheerful living-room where logs blazed upon the andirons in the fire-place, and Constance was just lighting a large reading lamp which stood upon a table in the center of the room.
“Constance, dear, this is Mr. Stuyvesant whom your cousin knew at Princeton. My daughter, Constance, Mr. Stuyvesant. And this is my eldest daughter, Eleanor,” she added as Eleanor entered the room. Constance set the lamp shade upon its rest and advanced toward their guest with hand extended and a smile which was the perfect reflection of her mother’s. Eleanor’s greeting although graceful and dignified lacked her sister’s cordiality.
“Now,” added Mrs. Carruth, “let us be seated and learn more definitely of Jean’s escapade.”
“But it wasn’t an escapade this time, mother. It was just an unhelpable experience, wasn’t it, Mr. Stuyvesant?” broke in Jean, walking over to Hadyn Stuyvesant’s side and placing her hand confidingly upon his shoulder, as she peered into his kind eyes for his corroboration of this assertion.
“Entirely ‘unhelpable,’” was the positive assurance as he put his arm about her and drew her upon his knee. “Suppose you let me explain it, and then your mother and sisters will understand the situation fully,” and in as few words as possible he gave an account of the happenings of the past two hours, Jean now and again prompting him when he went a trifle astray regarding the incidents which occurred prior to his appearance upon the scene, and making a clean breast of her attack upon Jabe Raulsbury. When that point in the narration was reached Mrs. Carruth let her hands drop resignedly into her lap; Constance laughed outright, and Eleanor cried: “Oh, Mr. Stuyvesant, what must you think of Jean’s training?”
Jean’s eyes were fixed upon his as though in his reply rested the verdict, and her fingers were clasped and unclasped nervously. It had been more than two years since a man had set judgment upon her. Hadyn Stuyvesant looked keenly into the big eyes looking so bravely and frankly into his own, drew the little girl close to him, rested his lips for a moment upon the silky curls and said:
“Sometimes we can hardly be held accountable for what we do; especially when our sense of justice is sorely taxed. I believe I should have done the same. But since you love horses so dearly, won’t you run and give Comet a lump of sugar? He has not had one to-day and will feel slighted unless he gets it. Hold it upon the palm of your hand and he will take it as gently as a kitten. Tell him I am coming right away,” and placing Jean upon the floor, he gave an encouraging pat upon the brown curls.
“I’ll give it to him right away, quick,” she cried delightedly as she ran from the room.
“Good!” Then rising he extended his hand, saying, as he clasped Mrs. Carruth’s:
“She is a little trump, Mrs. Carruth. Jove! if you could have been there and seen her championship of that old horse, and her dauntless courage when that old rascal, Jabe, bore down upon her, you would be so set up that this house would have to expand to hold you. Please don’t reprove her. I ask it as favor, although I have no right to do so. She has a fine spirit and a finer sense of duty, Mrs. Carruth, for she gave me a rare call-down when I tested it by hinting that she’d best keep mum on the subject if she was likely to come in for a wigging. She is a great little lassie and I am going to ask you to let me know her better.”