"Don't be silly, Jack, or you'll spoil it all. Haven't I always been your little sister?"
"But surely, Eloise," I said, my heart in my throat, "after all these years—you don't know how I've loved you always, and lately yearned for home and you."
She gave me a startled look. "Jack, we must stop this. I have something to tell you."
The hills swayed as the surrey rushed by. I saw the old field mistily, the distant trees and the white lime roads. I was almost reeling in the fear which her tone had brought.
"What do you think of them?" asked Aunt Lucretia proudly.
I looked at the handsome pair, stepping like one, at a good three minutes' gait.
"Splendid," I said. "I should guess they were Young Hickory's, and their dam, Nuthunter."
Uncle Thomas could not restrain a laugh. These horses were his pride. "Ain't los' none of yo' hoss sense hobnobbin' with them furrin' folks, Marse Jack. You sho' hit it 'zactly!"
"I was afraid," went on Aunt Lucretia, "that I might not be successful in straightening out the Nuthunter legs; he hasn't the best of hocks, you know. But did you ever see anything more beautiful?" she added.
"I never," I answered, looking steadily into Eloise's eyes.