"And there was a little girl, the daughter?" Mrs. Houston insisted.
"Yes, I think there was a little girl."
"Hm'm, I knew it. Was she about twelve years old and very pretty, with black hair and grey eyes?"
"Yes—I believe her eyes were grey—since you mention it."
"Since I mention it!" Mrs. Houston laughed easily. "Seems to me you're mighty indifferent about your pupil." Then seriously, "She's a great pet of ours and I want you to be kind to her. She's a handful, everyone says, but Felix and I love her dearly. And indeed, I can't see how anyone keeps from it. Some people find her rather strange at first, and I must admit she is wilful, but after you know her a while you'll understand her. That is what I want you to do if you are to teach her—understand her and sympathize with her and be very good to her. Remember she has neither father nor mother." She laid her hand almost beseechingly, on Everett's arm.
"You may trust me to do that," Everett smiled into her kind eyes. "You see, she will be my first pupil, and, of course, I shall take pride in making her reflect credit upon me."
"That may be a little difficult. She never would study except what she wanted to, but perhaps you may exert a good influence over her in that direction." She glanced at Everett intently as if reading him and ended, "I'm half a mind to think you will, too."
Everett and Judge Houston strolled through the cool, darkened hall, and back to the front veranda, where large red rocking chairs and palmetto fans were invitingly awaiting them. As they stood for a moment, looking out toward the street, a wagon came into view, piled high with bales of cotton and pulled by six oxen.
"There is some cotton from the Brandon place," Judge Houston said to Everett. "Would you like to see it closer? You can tell it by the marks on the bales."
They walked down to the gate and watched the heavy load pass down the street on its way to the distant country from which Everett had come.