"Yes. I told my father about him,—how you rescued him, and how you went to see him in the hospital, and what a good man he is, and how poor."
"Oh, did you!" exclaimed Austen.
"Yes. And I told him the accident wasn't Zeb's fault, that the train didn't whistle or ring, and that the crossing was a blind one."
"And what did he say?" asked Austen, curiously.
"He said that on a railroad as big as his something of the kind must happen occasionally. And he told me if Zeb didn't make a fuss and act foolishly, he would have no cause to regret it."
"And did you tell Zeb?" asked Austen.
"Yes," Victoria admitted, "but I'm sorry I did, now."
"What did Zeb say?"
Victoria laughed in spite of herself, and gave a more or less exact though kindly imitation of Mr. Meader's manner.
"He said that wimmen-folks had better stick to the needle and the duster, and not go pokin' about law business that didn't concern 'em. But the worst of it was," added Victoria, with some distress, "he won't accept any more fruit. Isn't he silly? He won't get it into his head that I give him the fruit, and not my father. I suspect that he actually believes my father sent me down there to tell him that."