At length, quite oblivious of the contemptuous disapproval of his coachman, and greatly refreshed in spirit, “Cobbler” Horn bade his little friend “good day,” and mounted to his seat.
They drove off in silence. “Cobbler” Horn scarcely knew whether his exacting coachman would think it proper for his master to enter into conversation with him; and the coachman, on his part, would not be guilty of such a breach of decorum as to speak to his master when his master had not first spoken to him.
Miss Jemima was standing in the doorway to receive her brother; and behind her, with a radiant face, modestly waited the young secretary. Miss Jemima presented her cheek, as though for the performance of a surgical operation, and “Cobbler” Horn kissed it with a hearty smack. At the same time he grasped her hand.
“Well, Jemima,” he exclaimed, “I’m back again safe and sound, you see!”
“Yes,” was the solemn response, “I’m thankful to see you, brother,—and relieved.”
“Cobbler” Horn laughed heartily, and kissed her on the other cheek.
“Thankful enough, Jemima, let us be. But ‘relieved’! well, I had no fear. You see, my dear sister, the whole round world lies in the hand of God. And, then, I didn’t understand the way the Lord has been dealing with me of late to mean that he was going to allow me to be cut off quite so soon as that.”
This was said cheerily, and not at all in a preaching tone; and having said it, “Cobbler” Horn turned, with genuine pleasure, to exchange a genial greeting with his young secretary, who had remained sedately in the background.
“Dinner is almost ready,” said Miss Jemima, as they entered the house; “so you must not spend long in your room.”
“I promise you,” said her brother, from the stairs, “that I shall be at the table almost as soon as the dinner itself.”