"Gracious! you'll freeze. Sorry I was late." She saw at a glance the low shoes, the blue cloak, the kid gloves, the boy's look of suffering, and at once took possession of him.
"Get into the sleigh. Oh! leave your check on the trunk or give it to me." She was off and away to the trunk as he climbed in, helpless. She undid the counter check, ran across to the guard's house, was back in a moment and tumbled in beside him.
"But, is it safe? My trunk, I mean," said John.
"Safe. No one will steal it. Pat will come for it. There he is now. Tuck in the rugs. Put this shawl around you and over your head." She pinned it with ready fingers.
"Now, you'll be real comfy." The chilled boy puzzled and amused her.
As he became warm, John felt better in the hands of this easy despot, but was somewhat indignant. "To send a chit of a girl for him—John Penhallow!"
"Now," she cried to the driver, "be careful. Why did they send you?"
Billy, a middle-aged man, short-legged and long of body, turned a big-featured head as he replied in an odd boyish voice, "The man was busy giving a ball in the stable."
"A ball"—said John—"in the stable?"
"Oh! that is funny," said the girl. "A ball's a big pill for Lucy, my mare. She's sick."