Joe saw that the right hand no longer swished the cane. The groom took the mare back to the stable, and the crowd went off shouting in search of some new interest. Dr. Stone said, “Lady, house,” and returned to the porch. The house seemed to be momentarily deserted; but suddenly a voice came from one of the rooms off the wide, center hall.
“I tell you I can’t—not now. Give me time. A week—two at the most. I’ll make good. I—”
The blind man’s feet rang hard against the floor. The voice stopped short, and a receiver snapped back upon a hook. Alec Landry came out into the hall.
“Oh! It’s you, Doctor. You’ll pardon me; I have an errand that won’t wait.” Abruptly, on his way to the door, he turned and came back. “What do you think of the mare?”
It was Joe who answered. “Isn’t she a beauty?”
“A devil. You’ve talked to Bruce, Doctor. What do you make of him?”
“Was I supposed to make something?”
The man shook his head impatiently. “Allan should not have told him how much he was to inherit. He’s in a black mood and penniless.”
“You’re letting Allan ride the mare,” Dr. Stone pointed out.
“Yes.” There was a moment of silence. “What else could I do? He believes in himself. Could I risk shaking his courage and turning him into a coward? See you later.”