Chapter Fifty Two.
Cold Courtesy.
I received my mother’s embrace with filial warmth; my sister’s in silence—almost with coldness. My mother noticed this, and wondered. Gallagher also shewed reserve in his greeting of Virginia; and neither did this pass unobserved.
Of the four, my sister was the least embarrassed; she was not embarrassed at all. On the contrary, her lips moved freely, and her eyes sparkled with a cheerful expression, as if really joyed by our arrival.
“You have been on horseback, sister?” I said, in a tone that affected indifference as to the reply.
“Say, rather, pony-back. My little Foxey scarcely deserves the proud title of horse. Yes, I have been out for an airing.”
“Alone?”
“Quite alone—solus bolus, as the black people have it.”
“Is it prudent, sister?”