“I know, dear. But it usually makes a girl more self-reliant and helpful to others, if she does have to think of her own future, and to lend a helping hand towards feathering the home-nest. That is what we three older children have done, and it binds us in a closer tie of love, each helping the rest to get along as soon as he himself can fly alone, so to speak.”
“Helping how?”
“Well, for instance, I am the eldest at home. Father and mother worked hard to push me through school, and I had two years at the University besides, but had to leave to help. I began to teach, then, and my earnings helped launch the boys on their schooling. Don and Peggie come last of all, but they will have their turn the same as the rest. Don’t you see?”
Polly opened her eyes wider, and nodded her head. She did see, a little bit clearer. Life and happiness had been made so easy for her that she hardly ever thought how hard a path to travel it might be for the boy or girl who had no home like Glenwood, and no grandfather like the Admiral. Somehow, this quiet chat by the river bank, in the soft glow of the late April afternoon, brought new conceptions to her mind, and new vistas of life. Love that was strong enough to make willing sacrifices for those it loved even though it involved hardship and self-denial, was quite new to her.
“I’d love to know them all at your ranch,” she said, finally.
Just here the Admiral came pacing along the path towards them, fresh from his ride over to Senator Yates’ place. Whenever he missed Polly, he always knew where to find her, but this time, he stared thoughtfully at the young woman with her.
“God bless my heart and soul, Polly,” he exclaimed, “if you haven’t captured my thoroughbred! Present me, Polly, present me.”
Polly did so, happily, and the old gentleman bowed low over Jean’s hand with all the old-time courtly grace that he was famous for.
“My dear child, you must pardon an old chap’s enthusiasm,” he said, “but you certainly ride a horse more inspiringly than any girl I ever saw. It is a joy to watch you. I have reined up several times to look after you as you took the river road at a dead gallop—and Polly, she sits her saddle like an Indian. None of this modern rising and falling, if you please. Where did you learn, Miss Murray, if I may ask?”
Jean laughed, and blushed. Praise was new to her.