"Then it's time I learned," said Austen. "Here's Mr. Jenney. I'm sure he'll have a piece."
"Well," said Mr. Jenney, the same Mr. Jenney of the apple orchard, but holding out a horny hand with unmistakable warmth, "how be you, Austen?" Looking about him, Mr. Jenney put his hand to his mouth, and added, "Didn't expect to see you trailin' on to this here kite." He took a piece of cake between his thumb and forefinger and glanced bashfully at Victoria.
"Have some lemonade, Mr. Jenney? Do," she urged.
"Well, I don't care if I do," he said, "just a little mite." He did not attempt to stop her as she filled the glass to the brim, but continued to regard her with a mixture of curiosity and admiration. "Seen you nursin' the baby and makin' folks at home. Guess you have the knack of it better'n some I could mention."
This was such a palpable stroke at their host that Victoria laughed, and made haste to turn the subject from herself.
"Mr. Vane seems to be an old friend of yours," she said.
"Why," said Mr. Jenney, laying his hand on Austen's shoulder, "I callate he is. Austen's broke in more'n one of my colts afore he went West and shot that feller. He's as good a judge of horse-flesh as any man in this part of the State. Hear Tom Gaylord and the boys wanted him to be State senator."
"Why didn't you accept, Mr. Vane?"
"Because I don't think the boys could have elected me," answered Austen, laughing.
"He's as popular a man as there is in the county," declared Mr. Jenney. He was a mite wild as a boy, but sence he's sobered down and won that case against the railrud, he could get any office he'd a mind to. He's always adoin' little things for folks, Austen is."