"Then the one nearest the heart." Some quick reflection passed through
Ann Penhallow's mind of this being like an older man's humour.
Leila gave him a riding-whip. He had a moment's return of the grown-up courtesies he had been taught, and bowed as he thanked her, saying, "Now, I suppose, I am your knight, Aunt Ann."
"And mine," said Leila.
"I do not divide with any one," said Mrs. Ann. "Where is your present,
James?"
He had kept his secret. "Come and see," he cried. He led them to the porch. "That is mine, John." A thorough-bred horse stood at the door, saddled and bridled. Ann thought the gift extravagant, but held her tongue.
"Oh, Uncle Jim," said John. His heart was too full for the words he wanted to say. "For me—for me." He knew what the gift meant.
"You must name him," said Leila. "I rode him once, John. He has no name.
Uncle Jim said he should have no name until he had an owner. Now I know."
John stood patting the horse's neck. "Wasn't his mother a Virginia mare,
James?" said Ann.
"Yes."
"Oh, then call him Dixy."