“Cross my heart!” She sped away for her hat and coat and slipped quietly out at the side door, waiting for Luke in the lane.
He came in five minutes, old Ben Birdsall trailing at his heels, the open letter still in his hand. She sensed instantly that Luke wanted to be rid of him; there was impatience in his stride which left the superintendent behind and annoyance in his sharp—“Ready, Glen? Come on!”
But the old fellow persisted. “Wait a minute! Hold on there, Luke! Yo’ hold yo’ hosses, cain’t yo’? I want to tell Miss Glen!”
The girl had started forward, obedient to Luke’s word, but she halted perforce when Ben caught up with her, thrusting his arm before her, the letter shaking in his shaking hand.
“My ship’s come in, Miss Glen, just like I said! Oh, my Lawdy, Lawdy! Look a’ here!” He continued to wave the letter before her. “It’s my niece Irene, my sister Hattie’s gal! Say, I never suspicioned, when she married that lunger and pulled up stakes and traipsed out west with him—‘Uncle Ben,’ she says—right here in this letter—‘Uncle Ben, you stood by me when I hadn’t nobody but yo’ and now I’m a’ going to pay yo’ back,’ she says.” He began to cry, childishly, wiping away his tears with the back of his hand.
“But—I don’t understand, Ben! Has she sent you money?” In spite of Luke’s insistent hand at her elbow, she could not begrudge this moment.
“Sent me money? Say, she’s sent fo’ me, that’s what she’s done—sent money right to the bank fo’ me to get me fixed up fine, and fo’ my ticket to Californy! ‘Uncle Ben,’ she says—”
Luke Manders cut in crisply. “Oil. Her husband has——”
“Now, yo’ hold yo’ hosses,” the old fellow pleaded. “First off, they got ’em a little ranch—coupla acres, I reckon, and ’lowed they’d raise oranges, but what with dry years and frosts and hard times, why, they never got ahead. And Albert, he didn’t gain like she hoped he would, and say, they was just about down and out, but it’s darkest just before dawn, like the saying goes, and if they haven’t struck oil! Oil—on an orange ranch? Wouldn’t that kill you? And a gusher, she says! And now, ’stead of fo’getting the holler log, the way lots would do, why she wants I should come out and live with ’em the rest of my bawn days! ‘Uncle Ben,’ she says——”
Luke’s touch was insistent. “It’s glorious, Ben, and I’m so happy for you!” Glen patted his shaking shoulder. “You’ve worked hard all your life and you’ve been kind, and it’s right that this should happen to you! And to-morrow I want to hear all about it, and all your plans, and I’d love to have you read the letter to me if you will!”