Mrs. Westmore sat on the veranda and watched them canter up. She thought how handsome they were, and how well they would look always together.
Alice sprang lightly from her mare at the front steps.
“Did you think we were never coming back? Richard's new mare rides so delightfully that we rode farther than we intended. Oh, but she canters beautifully!”
She sat on the arm of her mother's chair, and bent over and kissed her cheek. The mother looked up to see her finely turned profile outlined in a pale pink flush of western sky which glowed behind her. Her cheeks were of the same tinge as the sky. They glowed with the flush of the gallop, and her eyes were bright with the happiness of it. She sat telling of the new mare's wonderfully correct saddle gaits, flipping her ungloved hand with the gauntlet she had just pulled off.
Travis turned the horses over to Jim and came up.
“Glad to see you, Cousin Alethea,” he said, as she arose and advanced gracefully to meet him—“no, no—don't rise,” he added in his half jolly, half commanding way. “You've met me before and I'm not such a big man as I seem.” He laughed: “Do you remember Giant Jim, the big negro Grandfather used to have to oversee his hands on the lower place? Jim, you know, in consideration of his elevation, was granted several privileges not allowed the others. Among them was the privilege of getting drunk every Saturday night. Then it was he would stalk and brag among those he ruled while they looked at him in awe and reverence. But he had the touch of the philosopher in him and would finally say: 'Come, touch me, boys; come, look at me; come, feel me—I'm nothin' but a common man, although I appear so big.'”
Mrs. Westmore laughed in her mechanical way, but all the while she was looking at Alice, who was watching the mare as she was led off.
Travis caught her eye and winked mischievously as he added: “Now, Cousin Alethea, you must promise me to make Alice ride her whenever she needs a tonic—every day, if necessary. I have bought her for Alice, and she must get the benefit of her before it grows too cold.”
He turned to Alice Westmore: “You have only to tell me which days—if I am too busy to go with you—Jim will bring her over.”
She smiled: “You are too kind, Richard, always thinking of my pleasure. A ride like this once a week is tonic enough.”