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diff --git a/old/67567-0.txt b/old/67567-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 400593c..0000000 --- a/old/67567-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,6997 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Little Lady of the Horse, by -Evelyn Raymond - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you -will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before -using this eBook. - -Title: The Little Lady of the Horse - -Author: Evelyn Raymond - -Release Date: March 5, 2022 [eBook #67567] - -Language: English - -Produced by: D A Alexander, SF2001, and the Online Distributed - Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was - produced from images generously made available by Cornell - University Digital Collections) - -*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE LITTLE LADY OF THE -HORSE *** - - - - - -THE LITTLE LADY OF THE HORSE - - -[Illustration: I told thee so, señor! See! she is leading him as gentle -as a lamb.--Page 152.] - - - - -THE LITTLE LADY OF THE HORSE - -BY EVELYN RAYMOND - -❁ - -BOSTON ROBERTS BROTHERS 1898 - - - - -_Copyright, 1894_, By Roberts Brothers. - -University Press: John Wilson and Son, Cambridge, U.S.A. - - - - -THE LITTLE LADY OF THE HORSE. - - - - -CHAPTER I. - - -[Illustration] - -Old Sutro and young Steenie were where they might have been found on -almost every day at the same hour,--down on the beach, where the great -cañon cut through the _mesa_ to the sea. - -A group of rocks, roughly piled, and a few evergreen shrubs clustering -about them, made a pleasant break in a long, monotonous stretch of -coast, and the coolness of the spot was always refreshing after their -canter in the sunshine. Their horses had been unsaddled and set free -to browse upon the herbage up the cañon; and these moved here and -there, lazily, as if--like the old _caballero_ himself--they felt the -languor of that midday hour. - -“Sutro, what makes the water so bluey-green?” asked the little girl, -who had been sitting silent for full one minute and gazing dreamily at -the shining waves. - -“_Caramba!_ How can I tell?” - -“But you should know, shouldn’t you? Doesn’t everybody keep learning -things all the time? If I were a’most a hundred, like you, I should -know everything, I think. In verity, I should be able to answer a -simple question such as that. And so I tell you.” - -“_Si?_ Thou wouldst find thou knew nothing at all, maybe; and thou -wouldst not trouble if it were so. Because, if the good _Dios_ wished -to make us wise He would put wisdom into our heads without labor to us, -wouldn’t he? Why not?” - -“Fie, my Sutro! Do I learn reading that way? But no. I should wait a -long time first, my father says. Well, then, if you do not know what -makes the water green, I s’pose, at least, you can tell what lies -beyond the water?” - -“Ah, that I can! Beyond the water lies the sky. Thou canst see that -for thyself,” answered the old man, with a chuckle of delight, and -pointing to the horizon, where, in truth, the sky and ocean seemed to -blend. - -“No, that is a mistake, begging your pardon, dear Sutro, though it -looks so. For my father says that it is only seeming; and that if I -were to sail ’way, ’way over ever so far, it would be just as it is -here,--the water so low down and the sky so high up above my reach. -But, dearie me, I s’pose you will never tell me anything, Sutro! I must -find out all things for myself. I wish my father wasn’t so busy. I wish -my mother hadn’t died when I was a baby. I wish I knew what makes the -road-runners such silly birds. Why should they keep always in front of -one in a chase after them? Why don’t they fly up out of the way? But, -of course, you can’t tell. And I wish--I wish--What makes people grow -wrinkley when they get old? You can’t help being wrinkley, I know that, -dear Sutro, but what makes it?” - -“_En verdad!_ It may be answering thy idle questions, Little Un; yet -there is one thing I would have thee know, and remember it. My soul! if -thou dost not, I will be--” - -“Not angry, please, Sutro!” cried Steenie, in sudden alarm. - -“Maybe no. Not angry, truly. But wilt thou remember? I cannot be a -hundred till the _Natividad_ (Christmas) comes round five-and-ten times -more. When I am a hundred years, thou wilt be a woman. This I know, -because I asked Father Antonio when I was last at his house. My father -was a hundred and ten when he died; and his father even more than that. -The Vives’ family lives long in this world, and--_Guay!_ wouldst thou -lie down without thy blanket?” - -For Steenie had thrown herself full length on the mass of sea-pink -vines, and would have been asleep in another moment; but kind old Sutro -spread his gay Navajo blanket further up, under the shelter of the -rocks, and, after the child had curled herself upon it, arranged with -utmost care the branches of the chaparral till she was wholly screened -from sunlight. Next, he whistled for the horses, who came obediently -back to the mouth of the cañon; and then he went speedily to sleep, -as Steenie had done. But for himself he made no screen, save his arm -across his eyes, nor any bed softer than the warm sand. - -During the next half hour these two odd comrades slumbered so -peacefully that the teal in the pool beyond the rocks, and the -sand-pipers in the rushes, went on about their business as fearlessly -as if no human intruders were near; but when the half-hour was up, the -girl awoke as suddenly as she had slept. Sitting on her blanket, she -pushed her brown curls from her blue eyes, and looked mischievously -around at old Sutro, whom she began to pelt with the crimson-rayed -pinks, aiming so deftly that one gold-hearted blossom landed plump in -the open mouth of the sleeper. “_Hola! hola!_ that was well sent!” -shouted she. - -Sputtering the flower from his lips, the Spaniard retorted, “In verity, -I--” - -But if he meant to scold his darling he was not allowed; for she leaned -over him, patted his brown cheeks, and kissed him squarely on the -forehead, in the very thickest tangle of the wrinkles she so disliked. -“There, there, that will do, Señor Sutro Vives! If I was rude, you will -forgive me; and if I hurt you, the wound will heal.” - -“Thou hast healed it already, Little Un, and hast gladdened the heart -of thy slave!” answered the other, with the extravagance of expression -to which his tongue was prone. - -“Pooh, my Sutro, you my slave,--the proudest of proud on all Santa -Felisa ranch! My father says that the blood of three races runs in -your veins, and that you have kept the best part of each. What does he -mean by that? I heard him talking thus, once, with some strangers, who -came to see the place. It was when you rode away on Mazan´, there; and -one of the gentlemen said you were a very picture-y, or something, kind -of a man, and--” - -“Ten thousand pardons, Little Un, but it is false!” - -“Why, Sutro, what do you mean? Isn’t it fine to be picture-y? I’m sure -the stranger thought so, for he noticed everything about you,--your -buckskin leggings, your sombrero, your big saddle, your lariat, and -all. He said you were a most int’resting kind of a ‘type,’ and an ‘old -Californian,’ and so on. I didn’t like the ‘old’ part of the talk, -though, ’cause if you have to be called old, I’d rather do it myself, -wouldn’t I?” - -Sutro vouchsafed no reply. His brow had grown moody, and his movements -betokened anger; for he picked up the blanket, and folded it with -unusual precision, and, if it were possible, threw his shoulders -back more squarely than ever. At that moment, from the snap of his -black eyes and the rigidity of his upright figure, he might have been -eighteen instead of eighty-five, which was the number of years Father -Antonio’s reckoning accorded him. - -Steenie became silent, for the one thing she feared was anger; but when -the _caballero_ whistled for Mazan´, she puckered her own red lips into -a summons for Tito, who answered by a loving neigh and an immediate -approach. - -Not so the brown mare, Mazan´, to whose sensitive ears Sutro’s whistle -had conveyed the information that her master was cross; and when that -was the case, it were well that all tender-hearted creatures kept out -of his way. So, instead of trotting forward to be mounted, pretty -Mazan´ trotted off up the beach, and at a distance of a few rods broke -into a wild gallop toward home. - -Then Steenie laughed; she couldn’t help it, though she trembled -instantly, fearing she had made matters worse. - -But no. There was something so merry and infectious about that laugh -that doting old Sutro was not the one to withstand its influence; -his frown relaxed to a smile. “Well, well, _En verdad!_ Mazan´ knows -something after all! For she would be a foolish thing to come back for -a beating she did not deserve, would she not, _mi niña_ [my little -one]?” - -“So I should think, indeed! But what fun! You shall mount with me, and -we will chase her. She’ll not stop to think that Tito can run her two -to one, will she?” - -“No, no!” assented the _caballero_, vaulting up behind his young -favorite, and making ready for use the lariat which had been wound -around his waist while he rested; also, for once, accepting without -challenge Steenie’s declaration that Tito was the fleeter animal. - -Such a race as that was! Save themselves and the fleeing mare, not -a moving thing was in sight; for, leaving the _mesa_ bluff and the -cañon, they left also the teal and the sand-pipers and the few creeping -creatures which lived in the chaparral. To the west glittered the -rich-hued Pacific Ocean; before them and behind them lay miles and -miles of yellow beach, while far eastward towered the mountains which -formed the boundary of the great Santa Felisa rancho. - -Lonely? Why, yes, it may have been; but so free, so roomy, and so -sunny, that these two who darted athwart the picture never thought of -loneliness. Besides, why should they? Santa Felisa was home to them; -and during the few short years that Steenie Calthorp had lived she had -viewed just such wide stretches of this lovely world, and no other; -for a city, or even town, she had never seen. - -As they rode they talked,--the girl asking and her attendant parrying -questions without number, till he cried out, impatiently, “If thou wilt -chatter always, Little Un, how can Tito win the race? Be quiet now, -for just two minutes, and my lady Mazan´ shall feel the rope about -her throat, if Sutro’s hand has not lost its cunning, with all this -tiresome talk of ‘old,’ ‘old’!” - -“_Ce, ce, ce!_” echoed Steenie, softly, in her eagerness using the -familiar Spanish injunction to silence, and bending low to whisper a -few encouraging words in Tito’s ear. Like an arrow he shot forward, and -in a brief space had gained so close to Mazan´ that Sutro made ready to -throw. - -“Whiz-z! Swish!” The rope had cut the air in shining circles above the -runaway’s straining head, and descended with unerring exactness to her -steaming neck; who, at the first touch of the cord, understood its -meaning, and stood stock-still,--a throbbing, beautiful, but wholly -conquered thing. - -“_Caramba!_ Señ’rita Mazan´! Wouldst serve thy master so? Take that--” - -But the uplifted hand was stayed, as suddenly as the mare’s flight -had been, by Steenie’s clutch of Sutro’s wrist, and her rebuke: “What! -would you strike her, really,--Mazan´, who never knew stroke or blow! -Or has this been your habit, and I s’posing you so gentle! For shame to -you, Sutro Vives! and shame ten thousand times! What is she but--” - -“A vixen! so I tell thee, who must be broken of her evil tricks. -_Caramba!_ Thus I will have it. ‘Women and mares and a spaniel dog--’” - -“Sutro! Leave your dirty Spanish jabbering, and listen to me. If you -strike her you shall not ride on the beach--for--one--whole--week! And -‘so I tell thee’! I will take--let me see--maybe Nicoloso Barbazon, -instead.” - -“_Si?_ but thou wilt not, Little Un! What does the stupid Nicoloso know -of what a señorita’s body-servant should be? Answer me that. _Caramba!_” - -“Ah, ha, my Sutro! Somebody is silly still; but it isn’t Mazan´, nor -Tito, nor me! And you make me think you are not well: you are so very, -very cross. Never mind, poor thing! Get upon your pretty beast, who -stands so quiet now, and let us go on. I am as hungry as hungry; aren’t -you?” - -“But--Nicoloso?” - -“Pooh! for Nicoloso! He needn’t come if you are good, need he? Sutro, -what makes one so uncomf’table to be hungry? If it weren’t for that -queerness inside of me I could stay out all day, and maybe all night.” - -“Ten thousand pardons, Señ’rita, but thou couldst not. What would thy -father do if dinner came but not his little daughter?” - -“Sure--what could he? He couldn’t live without me, could he? And -there’s the house. Another race, ’tween Tito and Mazan´ this time, not -Tito catching her. To the house. I’ll beat you, my Sutro!” - -They struck into it briskly; but, as they neared the goal, both -riders slackened pace at sight of a strange carriage standing before -the ranch-house door, with several of the household servants grouped -excitedly about it. - -“More strangers!” cried Steenie, regretfully. “It is nothing but -comp’ny all the time, nowadays; and I get no more nice times with papa, -because he must always attend to them. I wish they wouldn’t come; don’t -you, Sutro?” - -But she received no answer; for the old _caballero_ had muttered two -words, “The master!” then had dashed around the building toward the -kitchen court. - -“The master? Who can he be? Isn’t my father the master? Except, of -course, that great rich lord who owns Santa Felisa, and never comes -near it at all,--not once in all my life, my father says; and I’m sure -I hope he hasn’t now, for I should be dreadfully afraid of a lord who -wore a gold cornet on his head, as Suzan´ says ‘every lord does who is -any ’count at all.’” - -But he had indeed come; and the little girl, who had trotted slowly up -to the verandah, was lifted from her saddle, and duly presented by her -father, the manager, to a stout, red-faced old gentleman as, “My Lord, -my daughter.” - -“So? Hm-m. Let me see. Wife died. Only one? So, so. Nice child. -Run along, Sissy. Hm-m. I’d like dinner now. Great country for -appetite--California. Afterward, business.” - -Mr. Calthorp bowed gravely and respectfully; and, loosing Steenie’s -hand, bade her make herself ready for the table as soon as possible. -She held up her face for a kiss, then sped away, thinking she had never -seen her father look so serious, and wondering why. “Was he afraid of a -lord, too? And was the cor’net under the man’s hat?” - -Customs were simple at Santa Felisa; for, till now, the household had -been practically that of the manager alone, and, in default of an older -person, Daniel Calthorp had liked to have his little daughter preside -at table. So it seemed strange to none but Lord Plunkett himself when, -a little later than usual, she entered the dining-room and took her -usual place. Feeling she must honor such a wonderful occasion, she had -taken uncommon pains with her toilet; and, fortunately, the guest was -too indifferent to such matters to be shocked by the rather striking -combination of a red sash, a blue throat-knot against the white frock, -and a mass of reddish-brown curls bound into a stiff little knot by a -band of green velvet. - -Sutro followed her. As the oldest resident of the rancho, he felt -that he fully understood the requirements of the hour; and he had -also hastily arrayed himself in his gayest apparel, to take his -place solemnly behind his little “señorita’s” chair. There he stood, -perfectly motionless, apparently not noticing anybody,--even Steenie -herself,--and reminding the amused Lord Plunkett of nothing in the -world save one of the wooden figures outside a tobacconist’s shop. - -A Chinese waiter, instructed and assisted by the valet, Dorsey, served -the unexpected guest, and the housemaid attended to the others. But -nobody ate very much except the stranger; for Mr. Calthorp was too busy -answering his lordship’s questions, and Steenie too curiously regarding -his lordship’s appearance. - -Suddenly that gentleman looked up. “Well, Sissy! What d’ye think? Seem -to be staring sharp. Children read folks. Hope you’ll like me. Fond of -children. If they don’t talk. You don’t talk. Look as if you wished to. -Out with it! Don’t be afraid.” - -“Oh, no! I’m not afraid, now. Ought I to be? But, will you please tell -me where you keep it? And why don’t you wear it?” - -“Eh? How? Keep it? Wear it? What?” - -“Your cor’net. Suzan´ says you can’t be a real lord, ’n’ess you have -one.” - -“Steenie!” reproved Mr. Calthorp, smiling in spite of himself. - -“Good. Good. Let her alone. Hm-m. Coronet. Suzan´ ought to know. Well. -Didn’t bring it.” - -“Oh!” In a tone of deep regret. - -“No. Sorry now. If I’d imagined disappointment--might. -But--inconvenient. Don’t wear it often.” - -“Oh,” said Steenie again, surprised by the twinkle in the nobleman’s -eyes. “I didn’t know. I s’posed you had to. But I should think it would -be uncomf’table; ’cause gold is so heavy, and your head so smooth and -shiny. I s’pose it would slip off.” - -His lordship’s manners certainly were peculiar. He nearly choked -himself trying to suppress a laugh and to eat at the same time; but -finally yielded to a real guffaw, as noisily as any cow-boy on the -_hacienda_. - -“Steenie!” said the manager once more, this time with real severity, -and comprehending for the first time how sadly neglected the child had -been. - -But, fortunately, Lord Plunkett was very good-natured, and wisely -divined that his small new acquaintance was rude from ignorance, -not intention. Dinner over, he made friends with her directly, and -explained away the mistaken notions with which the housemaid had -filled her head; while Steenie listened eagerly, delighted to find at -last somebody who had both leisure and patience to answer “foolish -questions.” - -Lord Plunkett did this without waste of words; and at the same time -went poking about the place, enjoying the novelty of all he saw, and -gaining from Steenie’s talk a pretty fair idea of the daily life at -San’ Felisa. “Hm-m. So I see. Brought yourself up, my dear. No mother. -Father busy. Servants ignorant. No church. No school. Well, well. Good -thing for you, bad for me. Pity about his eyes. Bad, bad. Hope he won’t -be blind. Permanently.” - -“I hope so, too; though I don’t know who you mean,” said the little -girl, sweetly. - -“Good child. But--don’t know? Why--father. Your father, of course. -Hope he’s the only one losing eyesight and going away. Hate new men. -Old ones invaluable. Hope he’ll get better. Come back. Bad country for -eyes. Too much sunshine. Not enough green.” - -Steenie stopped short on the path. “What was that, sir, please? -My--father--blind? My father--going away? Oh, dear Lordship, is that -what you said?” - -“Yes. Yes. Certainly. What? Not know it? Why else should I come? Hm-m. -Queer. Starts in few days. Operation--maybe cure--” - -But he did not finish his sentence; for the child had suddenly darted -away from him, and to the side of the “tobacconist’s sign,” who was -crossing the court at that moment. “Sutro! O my Sutro! My father is -blind--and--going--away!” - -“It is false!” cried the old Spaniard, with his ready and angry -defiance of all things unpleasant. - -“No, no--it is true! ’Cause the cor’net man said so!” And clinging to -her ancient playfellow, Steenie buried her face in his blanket, and -sobbed bitterly. - - - - -CHAPTER II. - - -[Illustration: KENTUCKY BOB.] - -“There, she’s found it out! And it’s a deal worse than if her papa had -told her first off!” said Suzan´, at the kitchen door. “I never saw -Miss Steenie cry about anything before, and I wish now that I’d a broke -it to her myself.” - -“My, my! the poor lamb!” echoed Ellen, the cook, joining the housemaid. -“No, she haint never been one fer cryin’,--not even fer bumps er -scratches. Sunshiny’s what she’s been, an’ so I say. Does seem’s if -I couldn’t stay to cook fer no new manager’s folks after that sweet -angel. Good mind ter give notice myself.” - -“Oh, wait! Maybe it won’t be so bad as we think. Master don’t look -blind.” - -“How can ye tell how he looks, ’hind them great goggles o’ his’n? I -guess it’s bad as it can be, er he wouldn’t give in to it. He’s clear -grit, an’ so I say. That’s where Miss Steenie gets her’n. See! she’s -spied her father comin’ back from the valley! He rid away to call the -boys together, ’cause his lordship wants to see ’em, I suppose. Well, -he’s right peart-lookin’ yet; but man’s born to troubles, an’ he’ll hev -to take his share.” - -The women watched Steenie run with outstretched arms to meet Mr. -Calthorp; saw him check his horse suddenly, when he had almost ridden -her down, and bend low to lift her to his saddle. They saw the child’s -arms clasp close about his neck, and fancied they could hear her wild -outburst of grief. Then, with moistened eyes, but in true delicacy, -they turned away from witnessing a child’s first sorrow. - -“Papa, is it true?” - -“My darling, why do you cry? What true?” The well-trained horse stood -still while the rider folded his little daughter close to his own heavy -heart. - -“About your eyes. Are you--blind?” - -Mr. Calthorp shivered. Even to himself he could not yet acknowledge -what seemed so plain to almost everybody else. “No, sweetheart, I am -not blind--yet; but for a long, long time there has been something -wrong with my eyes, and I dare put off no further the treatment which -they require. So I wrote to Lord Plunkett and asked him to relieve -me of my duties here, and I meant to tell you as soon as it seemed -necessary. He came before I had expected that he could. He wishes to -make a thorough examination of all Santa Felisa affairs, and to be -fully informed concerning what has and has not been accomplished. I was -glad, yet sorry, to see him; for our going away means leaving what has -been my home for many years, and the only one you have ever known.” He -continued talking for some time, till he had given a very quiet and -clear explanation, which soothed the excited child; besides, the words -“not blind--yet” were quite enough to fill her buoyant heart with a -hope that seemed certainty. - -“Oh, how glad I am! And I s’pose the lordship didn’t understand. I’m -quite--quite sure he didn’t mean to tell a wrong story, and I’m sorry I -snatched my hand away from him. I’ll go and ’xplain it now, if you will -put me down, Papa, dear!” - -Smiling, Mr. Calthorp complied; and chirruping to his horse, continued -his course stableward, while Steenie sought the “cor’net man” to make -her naïve apology. - -“I guess I didn’t behave very p’lite, Mr. Plunkett, but I hope you -won’t be angry; I don’t like folks to be angry; but you see I didn’t -think of anything ’cept my father,--not then. And I want to ’xplain -it,--he isn’t blind--yet; and he’s going to see a treatment; so he’ll -prob’ly get them fixed over all right. And if there’s anything I can do -to int’rest you I will; for I like you very much.” - -“Eh?--So?--Thank you. I like you, too. Bright--bonny--worth a fortune. -Hm-m! Better than coronets. Stick to it. Sit down? Orange-tree, yonder. -Now, then, talk.” - -Laughing at his mirthful manner and odd sentences, Steenie led her new -friend to the seat he designated; and folding her hands in her lap, -said politely: “I’ll talk what more I know. ’Tisn’t much, I guess; only -’bout horses; I haven’t told you ’bout them yet, have I?” - -“No. Horses? What? Whose? Go on.” - -“Oh, ours!--No, yours, I s’pose they are. Maybe they’re the ‘boys.’ -We’ve trained them beautifully. Tomaso and Connecticut Jim both say it -can’t be beat. It’s great fun!” - -“Don’t understand.” - -“No, I s’pose not. But--this way, like a ‘circus,’ my father says. -They’s thirty-three, all counted; and every man of us has tried to -teach our horse something better ’n each other; and they’re just too -cunning for anything! Bob’s kept the ‘cup’ for ever so long now; but -I’m going to win it away from him some time,--see if I don’t! Oh, I -forgot!” The eager little face suddenly drooped at memory of that -terrible “going away,” which would be even earlier than the anticipated -“some time.” - -“Why, why!--delightful! Never heard anything like it! See it, can -I,--eh?” demanded his lordship, whose love for horses was very great. - -“I hope--I s’pose so. I don’t know. Kentucky Bob’s the head of us. We -all have to mind him; and sometimes he don’t be very pleasant. But he’s -very nice and honest, my father says; and I love him dearly. Then we -can’t have a ‘circus’ till he gets over it again. My father says, too, -it’s ’cause he has a ‘crank’ in him somewhere. I s’pose that’s what -hurts him and makes him unpleasant. Don’t you?” - -“No doubt. Bad complaint; quite general; touch myself. No, don’t go! -All right to-day. But--where’s Kentucky Bob? Walk him out! Won’t -refuse,--not me.” - -“No, I don’t s’pose he would, on ’count of your being a lordship. If -you don’t mind staying alone, I’ll run and ask him. I saw him cross the -_arroyo_ just a minute ago.” - -“Trot; but come back.” - -Steenie departed; and while she was gone Mr. Calthorp walked -gropingly toward the bench where his employer sat. He could still see -sufficiently to guide himself about, and his knowledge of places and -voices aided him. His eyes were screened by close-fitting goggles of -dark glass; but he had worn these so long that Steenie had almost -forgotten how he had ever looked without them. Few men in his condition -would have held to his post as long as he had done, nor was this course -wise in him; but he was not a rich man, and he had been anxious to earn -and save what he could for his little daughter’s sake. - -“Hm-m! Get around--first-rate. Little girl’s smart; like her.” - -“Thank you. She is, indeed, a brave, sunny child. In some ways her -leaving Santa Felisa will be better for her. She should go to school -and mingle with women. Here she has no company but myself and the -‘boys.’ Old Sutro has devoted himself to her since her infancy, and -loves her jealously. Indeed, they all love her; but that is not -strange, for she loves them. Has she gone upon an errand for you?” - -“Yes; Kentucky Bob. Circus; like to see it. Says maybe he won’t; -‘crank.’” - -“Well--he is--very peculiar. However, he has a wonderful gift with -horses; it seems almost like magic; and he has imparted much of his -skill to Steenie. She is perfectly fearless. But I won’t anticipate. -Are they coming?” - -“Yes. Hm-m! how old--she?” - -“Ten years. I’ll leave her to negotiate matters.” - -Steenie approached the orange-tree, leading by one hand a great fellow, -whose face at that moment wore its most forbidding expression, and who -seemed inclined to break away from his small guide; yet determined, in -his own words, “to bluff her out.” Catch him, a free-born American, -truckling to anybody, even if that body were a genuine “lord,” and, -what was more, his own employer! He guessed he wasn’t a going to get up -no shows unless he wanted to! And he evidently did not so incline. - -However, when he came quite near, and saw the small, dumpy, red-faced -old gentleman sitting beside Mr. Calthorp, his astonishment conquered -every other sentiment. He a lord! Whe-ew! he might be anybody! and -of no great account either. Plain suit of clothes, no rings, no -watch-chain, no scarf-pin even; bald-headed, good-natured, sensible. As -his observations reached this happy climax, Bob ceased tugging at his -feminine guiding-string, and marched frankly forward. Her father could -not see the action; but Steenie was amazed when the refractory ranchman -doffed his hat and made a respectful, if somewhat awkward, bow. She had -never witnessed such a concession before on his part. - -“Good evenin’, sir; hope I see you well.” - -“Quite, thank you. Hear you’re wonderful. Horses. Like to see, if -suits.” - -“Well, sir, I’d like to ’blige; but, you see, it’s against the rules. -Once a week, an’ no oftener, is what we agreed. No use o’ rules if you -don’t stick to ’em. Exercise every Sunday; no other times in public. -If I ’lowed the ‘boys’ to go it rash, say on odd days, they’d get the -upper hand in no time; then where’d I be?” - -From the tone of his voice, Mr. Calthorp judged that Bob “wanted -coaxing;” but this was not his affair. From the moment of Lord -Plunkett’s arrival he had practically resigned all authority, so he did -not interfere. - -Now, my lord was, as has been said, very good-natured; but, like many -other good-natured and unassuming people, opposition, or imposition, -made him a little testy. Moreover, he was accustomed to command, not -to sue; and he considered that he had already conceded as much as was -necessary to this rough specimen of American manhood. His choler and -color rose together; and he opened his lips with a very decided and -undignified snort: “Woo-oo! Eh? Hey?” - -But, fortunately for all parties, Steenie’s bright eyes had telegraphed -alarm to her loving heart; and with a quick little “’Xcuse me!” she -pulled Bob’s surly face to the level of her lips, and whispered -something in his ear. - -Then, as if there had been a spring in his back, his head rebounded -to the upright, his cheek actually paled beneath its tan, and he -ejaculated fiercely, “Great--Huckleberries!” - -It was the nearest approach to an oath which this strange man ever -allowed himself; for, though he thought nothing of breaking the Sabbath -by racing or gaming, he neither gave way to profanity nor indulged -himself with a drop of spirituous liquor. He used to describe himself -as “half marm, half pop;” and to attribute his sobriety and general -uprightness to the “marm” side, all to the contrary, “pop.” Years -before, when, a hot-tempered lad, he had run away from “pop’s” wrath, -he had solemnly promised his weeping “marm” that he would “never drink -nor swear;” and, to the honor of Kentucky Bob, be it said that he had -loyally kept his word. - -“Huckleberries! Little Un, you don’t mean it! You wouldn’t, would you?” - -“I--I’ve got to, dear old Bob! But--there--there--there--I won’t cry! I -will not. And you’ll do it, won’t you?” - -“Well--I reckon! But--little missy--the boys won’t believe it. -An’--Say, Boss, is it true? Are you a goin’ to light out?” - -“Yes, Bob,” answered Mr. Calthorp, sadly; “but from necessity, not -choice.” - -“An’ the Little Un--why must she go? Ain’t nothin’ the matter of her -eyes, is they?” - -“No, no; thank God!” - -“Well, then; leave her here. We’ll take care of her. Square. -Why--what--in huckleberries--’ll San’ Felis’ be ’ithout our little -missy? Ain’t she lived here ever sence she was borned? Ain’t we be’n -good to her? We’re rough, we be. We ain’t no lords, ner nothin’ but -jest cow-boys er sech. But we’re men. An’ Americans. An’ I ’low there -ain’t one of us but would fight till he died fer the Little Un, afore -harm should tetch her. No! It mustn’t be. An’ that’s square.” - -Even Mr. Calthorp, who had had abundant proof, heretofore, of the -“boys’” devotion to Steenie, was surprised at the depth of feeling -betrayed by Bob’s words; for he could not fully know all that the -child had been to these men, separated, as most of them were, from -home and its associations. Since the hour when they had been permitted -to carry or amuse her, a tiny baby in long clothes, they had adopted -her in their hearts, each in his own way finding in the frank, merry, -friendly little creature an embodiment of his own better nature. They -had even, with the superstition of their class, accepted her as their -“mascot,” sincerely believing that every enterprise to which she lent -her presence or approval was sure to prosper. - -To what other human being would Kentucky Bob have imparted the secret -of his wonderful power over the equine race? Indeed, to none other; -and to her only because he loved her so, and was so proud of her -cleverness. And now his big, honest heart ached with a new and bitter -pain, as he faced the danger of her loss. - -“Why, Robert! Why! Eh, what? Tut, tut. Good child. Understand. -But--father. First claim. See?” - -Angry Bob cast one scorching, contemptuous glance upon the nervous -little lord; and if looks could annihilate, the British peerage -would then and there have been short one member. Stooping, he swung -Steenie to his shoulder, and strode away toward the great group of -out-buildings which made the home-piece of Santa Felisa rancho seem -like a village in itself. In the thickest crowd of the employees who -had been summoned to meet their newly-arrived employer he came to a -sudden halt. - -“Hello, Bob! What’s up?” - -“I--The--I wish to sizzle! Sho, I can’t talk. Tell ’em, Little Un.” - -“Yes, Bob,” answered Steenie, gently, patting the great head around -which she clung for support. “But s’pose you put me down. I’m heavy. -I’m such a big girl, now.” - -“No, you ain’t. Hold you forever, if you’ll stay.” - -“Stay? stay where?” asked somebody. - -“Tell ’em,” again commanded the Kentuckian; and waving her hand, she -hushed them by this gesture to hear her words. - -Yet, somehow, the words wouldn’t come. For the second time that day -the self-control of the child failed to respond to her needs. Her eyes -roamed from face to face of those gathered about her, and there was not -one on which she did not read an answering love for the great love she -bore to it. Rough faces, most of them. Sun blackened,--sin blackened -too, perhaps; but gentle, every one, toward her. Odd comrades for a -little girl, and she a descendant of “one of the first families in Old -Knollsboro;” still the only comrades she had ever known, and therefore -she craved no other. - -Twice she tried to speak, and felt a queer lump in her throat that -choked her; and at last she dropped her face upon Bob’s rough mane, her -sunny curls mingling with it to hide the tears which hurt her pride to -show. - -An ominous growl ran round the assembly, and the sound was the tonic -she needed. “Hmm! who’s a makin’ ther Little Un cry?” - -“Nobody, boys! dear, dear boys! Not anybody at all! I’m not crying now; -see?” Proudly her head was tossed back, and a determined smile came to -the still quivering lips, even while the tears glistened on the long -lashes. “You see, it’s this way. I didn’t know it till this very day -that ever was, or I’d have told you. ’Cause I’ve always been square, -haven’t I?” - -“You bet! Square’s a brick!” - -“But all the time my father’s been getting blinder an’ blinder, an’ -I didn’t even s’pect anything ’bout it. I thought he wore goggley -things ’cause he liked ’em; but he didn’t: it was ’cause he had to. -And now, if he don’t go away quick, he can’t get his poor eyes fixed -up at all. So he is. He’s going ’way, ’way off,--three thousand miles, -my father says, to a big city called New York, where a lot of doctors -live who don’t do anything but mend eyes. My grandmother lives in a -little town close to New York, and we’re going to her house to stay; -and--and--that’s all. I have to do it, you see. I’m sorry, ’cause I -love you all; but he’s my father, and I have to love him the biggest, -the best. And I hope you don’t mind.” - -“No, no, no! Three cheers for the ‘boss’!” - -Given with a will; and by the time the noise had subsided, Steenie’s -smile had become as bright as ever, and that without any effort of her -will. - -“Good enough! Thank you, dears! And now we’ll have an extra circus, -won’t we? I’d like to ’blige Mr. Plunkett; and besides, you know, I--I -sha’n’t have you, nor the horses, nor any more fun--in that old New -York!” - -“Hold on, Little Un! Where’s your grit?” asked Kentucky Bob, passing -Steenie from his shoulder to a convenient wagon-box. - -His sudden change of tone astonished her. - -“Hain’t I allays fetched ye up to do the square thing? If your dooty -calls you to N’ York,--to N’ York you’ll have to go; but, fer the honor -o’ San’ Felis’, an’ the credit o’ your boys, do it colors flyin’--head -up--shoulders back--right face--march!” - -“I will, Bob! I will! I will!” cried Steenie, impulsively. “You sha’n’t -ever have to be ashamed of your Little Un, and so I tell you!” - -In the midst of the rousing cheers which followed, Lord Plunkett -appeared. He could restrain his curiosity no longer. - - - - -CHAPTER III. - - -[Illustration: SUTRO.] - -There was some suspicion among the other dwellers at Santa Felisa that -Kentucky Bob had once been employed about a real circus, else how had -he acquired that intimate knowledge of the “rules and regulations of -the ring” which he so constantly quoted for their benefit or reproval? - -Into this “ring” of theirs, the boxes, hurdles, and other such things -which the riders had been accustomed to use were soon gathered, and -the labor of arranging these gave a wholly pleasant diversion to their -feelings. A card of invitation, beautifully engrossed by a vaquero who -had passed from the halls of Harvard to the great solitudes of the -Sierras, was issued to Lord Plunkett, and a seat of honor erected for -him on the southern side of the campus, while a spreading canvas wall -on the north was to serve as a screen for the preparatory operations of -the various actors. - -Needless to say, maybe, that having once been won over to the project -of an “extra show,” an enthusiastic determination was roused among the -Santa Felisans to make this farewell entertainment of their beloved -“mascot” eclipse everything which had ever gone before. - -Nor did the interest end at this ranch; for mounted messengers were -dispatched to invite the people of the neighboring estates to be -present at the exhibition, and the invitations were as generally as -promptly accepted. - -But, of course, all this preparation took time to accomplish, so the -hour had been appointed for one o’clock of the following day; and -during the interval Steenie’s thoughts were so full of the matter, her -tongue so busy discussing it, that she neither felt the time long nor -permitted others to do so. - -Indeed, so affected was everybody by the pleasant excitement of -“getting ready,” that evening came before Lord Plunkett and his manager -were finally seated with their books before them and a secretary at -hand, to examine into the business which had brought them together. -Even then his lordship would gladly have waived the matter, had he been -allowed. “For ten years. No, twelve. Ship-shape. Paid well. Prompt. -What more, eh? I’m satisfied. Why not you?” - -“But, my lord, I cannot be. Any new manager will have enough to learn, -even without all that I can do for him. It is a great responsibility; -and, my lord, I would respectfully suggest that in the future you visit -this part of your property oftener than once in a dozen years.” - -“Hm-m! maybe; don’t know. Planned to stay a year now. Girl going away. -Give it up. Consider. She comes back; so ’ll I. Like her. Credit to -you; so’s the ranch.” Then the nobleman looked up as Sutro entered, -bringing the “new manager’s” card. “Hello, Mexican! Well, where? -Indigestion? Missed you. Say you’ve character? Born here? Eh? What?” - -Sutro bowed profoundly, but a malicious grin overspread his wrinkled -face. “_En verdad!_ Thy Excellency honors his humble servant. Ten -thousand thanks. But the señor stranger is arrived.” - -Mr. Calthorp rose and advanced carefully in the direction of the -door, extending his hand toward the new-comer, whom he immediately -presented to Lord Plunkett; and, while these gentlemen were exchanging -civilities, he turned sharply upon old Vives, whom he could hear -rustling about near him. “Where have you been so long, Sutro? We have -not seen you since dinner. His lordship has inquired for you several -times.” - -“_Si?_ He does the least of his household too great respect,” answered -the Spaniard, with haughty accent. - -“Come, come, Sutro, don’t be foolish! It would be wiser of you to -conciliate both him and the new ‘boss.’ They can easily turn you -adrift, and you are an old man. From the tone of your voice, I judge -that you are angry. That is senseless, and I am sorry. I wish to feel -that one as fond of my little daughter as you are will be quite happy -and comfortable when we are gone.” - -“I bow myself in obligation to thee, Señor Calthorp,” responded the -old Castilian, servilely. But his mood was neither servile nor happy; -and, as the retiring manager turned once more toward his successor, he -sought the cozy corner of the office which Steenie called her own, and -where she sat by her pretty shaded lamp, sorting her picture-books. - -“_Hola_, my Little Un! But I have put a thorn in his shirt, no? Trust -old Sutro!” - -“How? What do you mean? And surely I can trust you to do ’most anything -hateful when you look such a way! What have you done now, Sutro Vives? -Tell me that!” - -“Hi, hi, hi! maybe no. _Si?_ Dost thou wish to go from San’ Felisa to -the land of snow and ice and no sunshine? Answer thou me that!” - -“You know I don’t wish it; but I must, that is all. But, wait, how do -you happen to know anything at all about it? You ran away directly -after dinner, and now you’ve just come in!” - -“Pouf! thinkest thou an old caballero knows nothing but what a baby -tells him? I have known for--this--long--time all that has been planned -for the little señ’rita. _Si! Lo dicho dicho_ [what I have said I have -said].” - -For a moment Steenie was silent, unable to answer this argument. Then -she cried triumphantly: “But you need not tell me that. A ‘long time’ -may be from this very mid-day that ever was, but from no longer. Does -anybody at San’ Felis’ ever tell Sutro Vives secrets? In verity, no; -for Suzan´ says you are a sieve that holds nothing. At the _Natividad_, -poor dear old caballero, with a word they don’t want spoken? Why, -nobody. And if you’d known about my father’s eyes and all, you’d have -told me the very first minute! You would so, my Sutro, you couldn’t -have helped it!” clapping her hands. - -It was the señor’s turn to look crestfallen. What his little lady -declared against him was quite true; but this had never prevented his -adopting an air of great mystery and secrecy whenever the slightest -occasion offered. Poor old Sutro Vives was not the only one in this -world bigger in his own estimation than in that of anybody else. - -But he rallied as swiftly as she had done. “_Tente!_ what of that? He -will not stay at San’ Felisa--yes? In verity, no; I have taken care -about that.” - -“Sutro, you look, you truly do look, naughty! What badness have you -been doing now, señor? Answer me that.” - -“Is the truth badness? Then have I been bad,” retorted the other, -bridling. “I have told him the truth, this not-wanted, unmannerly, -new director-manager. Thou belongest to us,--to the vaqueros and -caballeros, and everybody who dwells at San’ Felisa. It is in thee the -‘good luck’ lives; and thou wilt never be allowed to go away from us, -so I tell thee! There will be mutiny, uprising; what Connecticut Jim -calls ‘strike.’ But go from Santa Felisa, thou? No!--a thousand times -_no_!” - -Unperceived by them, Lord Plunkett had forsaken the other table and -the business talk, which he found tiresome, for that of the pair in -the cozy corner, which appeared to be interesting; and he had thrown -himself upon a lounge which the back of Steenie’s big chair hid from -view, to play the part of eavesdropper; only in this case it seemed -not ignoble, for the two animated disputants spoke quite loudly enough -to be heard by anybody in the room who had chosen to listen. He had, -therefore, enjoyed the whole dialogue, and he now leaned forward to -watch Steenie’s bright face and to catch her reply. - -“But I answer you and Jim and everybody--yes! Where my father goes I -will go, and all this silly talk won’t stop me! Next Saturday morning, -Sutro Vives, the noisy black engine will stop at San’ Felisa station, -and Papa Calthorp and I will get into one of those big cars, and will -go whizz, away, away!--where you nor Bob nor Jim nor nobody can do -wicked, hateful things to the Little Un, never again!” - -Wrought up by the pathos of her own picture, Steenie’s self-control -gave way at this juncture, and bounding toward her father, who seemed -at that moment to be a cruel enemy, and yet her only friend, she -astonished him by a torrent of tears and embraces which effectually -stopped all further conversation. - -“Sutro!” called Mr. Calthorp, sternly. - -“_Si_, señor; how can I serve thee?” - -“Here, go with Miss Steenie and find Suzan´. Daughter, let me see no -more of this childishness. Such rebellion is unworthy of you and most -distressing to me. Good-night.” - -Poor Steenie! her tears ceased instantly, and her grief turned to -anger. At that moment she felt that she had not a friend in the world, -and her proud little heart resented the apparent want of sympathy -she met with everywhere. With a very decided stamp of her little -boot-heels, she marched out of the room,--“eyes front, right face,” as -Bob would have commanded, though not in a spirit to be commended. - -“_Lastima es_ [it is a pity], my Little Un!” cried old Sutro, hurrying -after his darling, only to have her turn fiercely upon him, and -order him to “keep his pity to himself. And I want no Suzan´! I want -nobody,--nobody at all!” - -Ten minutes later a very wet and heated little face was buried in -the white pillows, and Steenie Calthorp had settled herself in bed, -convinced that she was the most ill-treated child in the world, and -resolved to enjoy her misery to the utmost. Only unfortunately for her -doleful plans, she was by nature very sunny and hopeful, and she was -also perfectly healthy. In about two winks she happened to think of -the next day’s “circus,” and before she knew it she was asleep, with a -smile upon her lips. - -Suzan´ entered softly and stood by the bed for a moment, shading her -lamp with her hand and lovingly regarding the little maid. “Bless her -dear heart! she’s shed more tears this day than in all her little life -before. But she’s happy now,--happier ’n anybody else at San’ Felisa. -My, my! what’ll ever we do without the Little Un? But master, he’s -worried about her crying; though, sure, if he’d bothered less about -books and business, and more about his own pretty flesh and blood, -maybe his eyes’d a been better the now, poor man!” - -Then she went away as gently as she had come; and when next Steenie -awoke, the brilliant California sunshine streaming in at her window was -not brighter than that within her own heart. - -“Such a day, such a day! Will it ever come noon!” - -“True. And all too soon, Miss Steenie, for that I’ve to do. Because, -what has his lordship done but give orders for a big feed for all the -people who are coming to see you show off?” - -“To see--me, Suzan´? Why, not me, but all the boys. I’m not to do a -thing till the very last, Bob says; and then only just ride and drive -a little. Maybe they will get tired, and won’t stay till the end, so -I won’t get a chance to do anything; ’cause Bob says he’s ’ranged a -dreadful long program. I think that’s what he called it.” - -“In verity, _querida_ [my darling]! I believe you are the only one -worth seeing, Lord Plunkett says. I heard one of the fellows giving -him some talk about you, and he kept rubbing his fat little hands, -and saying things so odd. Sounds like water coming out of a bottle. -‘Wonderful!’ ‘Strange!’ ‘Hm-m!’ ‘What?’ till I had to laugh. Think -of--him--for a lord! Much I care to read stories about ’ristocratics -any more! He hasn’t any ‘raving locks,’ nor ‘coal black eyes,’ nor -nothing. Isn’t half as handsome as a’most any of the boys.” - -“Well, well! Never mind him! Hurry up with my hair, won’t you, please? -My! how you do pull! I wish my father’d let me wear it short, like his; -don’t you?” - -“_Caramba!_ No. Your hair is the prettiest thing about you, except your -eyes, and maybe--” - -“Stuff! who cares for pretty? If I had to twist my hair up in rags -every night, like you do, dear Suzan´, I’d be mis’able. But I s’pose -you can’t help it. You’re grown up. It must be dreadful to get grown -up, and as old as you are, poor, nice Suzan´!” - -“_Si?_ Humph! And me only twenty-five my last birthday. If it was -Ellen, now--” - -“Never mind Ellen. And I love you, dear Suzan´, if you are old; and -I’m sorry ever’ time I’m fidgety ’bout my hair. You won’t ’member it -against me, will you, after I’m gone? ’Cause I don’t mean any badness; -it’s only this quick temper and can’t-keep-stillness of mine. I just -want to run, run, or something, all the time. And keeping tidy, like my -father says, is a bother. There! you’ve done, haven’t you? Can I go? -Kiss me, Suzan´!” - -Away danced Steenie, leaving her kind attendant feeling already -heavy-hearted in anticipation of the time when there would be no -restless little creature for her fond fingers to attire, and no little -outbursts of impatience to correct. - -But presently, all other thoughts save those connected with the -immediate affairs of the day were banished by the tasks which Suzan´ -found to do. There were chickens to roast, cakes to bake, biscuits by -the hundred to be made, and pies--such rows of pies! that the arms of -cook Ellen and her assistants, Win Sing and Lun Hoy, ached with the -rolling of pastry. - -But they were not dismayed. Not they! Didn’t they always cook just as -much when the sheep were sheared, or the feast after the “roundup” was -held? A pity if Santa Felisa couldn’t respond to any demand made upon -her larder,--especially by order of her owner, a real live British lord! - -So the great ovens were fired, both in the house-kitchen and in -the old adobe cooking-sheds outside; and a corps of white-aproned -helpers attended the roasting and stewing and baking of all the good -things which Mistress Ellen and her aids prepared. While under the -eucalyptus-trees bordering the arroyo, Suzan´ gayly directed the -spreading of the long tables that would seat, if need be, full two -hundred guests. - -“Oh, isn’t it fun!” cried Steenie, darting about from one point to -another of the gay and busy scene; and always having in tow the -perspiring Lord Plunkett, who found no breath left for even his short -sentences, but contented himself by beaming graciously upon each and -every one he met. - -“Tug an’ a canawl-boat!” said Bob, regarding the pair somewhat -jealously. “Don’t see why the Little Un need stick to him so closet, -even if he is a bloated lord!” - -“Never you mind, Bob! Let the Little Un alone. Ain’t she happy? Ain’t -she a purty sight? Brim full o’ smiles an’ chipper as a wren? What more -do ye want?” - -“Nothin’. But ’pears ter me she needn’t be so powerful glad ’bout -leavin’ us. I--don’t feel much like laughin’. And she’d oughter be -practisin’.” - -“Don’t worrit. It’ll be all right. Little Un’s square. She won’t -ferget us, you bet! An’ she’ll do the ‘great act’ all the better fer -bein’ light-hearted. Land! I only hope them cold-blooded Easterners’ll -make her half as glad as she’s always be’n at San’ Felis’! But--ain’t -it gittin’ nigh dinner-time? Folks air beginnin’ ter come a’ready. -Understan’ the spread, general, ain’t ter be till afterwards?” - -“No. An’ the one ’t carries off first prize is ter perside. Well. I -hope it’ll be our ‘Mascot.’ Do me prouder ’n if it was myself.” - -“Me, too,” echoed his comrade, and departed to snatch a hasty luncheon. - -At the same moment, Lord Plunkett announced, breathlessly: “I--I -can’t. Stop. Wait. Hungry. As--a--grizzly. Ever since--I came. Beats -everything. Appetite. Come. Eat.” - -“Oh, you dear, funny man! However can you think about eating--now? Why, -I just want one o’clock to come so much I can’t wait!” - -“Eh? What? Not afraid? Ride--same’s nobody here?” - -“Why--yes,” answered Steenie, slowly, as this new idea presented -itself. “Why shouldn’t I? Indeed, I ought to do a great, great deal -better; ’cause I wouldn’t like to dis’point dear old Bob. Nor you,” she -added politely. - -“Hm-m. Bob first. Then--me. Hm-m. You’re no--Anglomaniac. See that. -Plain.” - -“Wh-a-t, sir?” asked the little girl, astonished by the long, strange -word he had used. - -“No matter. Nice child. Spunky--but good. The way I like them. See -here?” He held up a small purse in which were displayed six glittering -double eagles. “Prizes. Eh? Win ’em? Highest--three; next--two; -last--one.” - -But Steenie was a little California girl, and her eyes were not dazzled -by the sight of gold. Of its intrinsic value she had no idea; for in -the course of her short life she had had no occasion to use any money. -The prizes, therefore, represented nothing to her beyond themselves; -and as playthings she did not care for them. - -“Are they? Then I hope the boys will get them all. ’Specially Jim. He’s -got a mother, an’ she’s got a consumption, or something. And he’s going -to bring her out to live in California, sometime. It’s ter’ble cold -where she stays now, my father says; and he ’vises Jim to fetch her. -They’re money; and they would help, wouldn’t they?” - -“Hm-m. Yes. And you--don’t want them?” - -“If he can’t win them I do. I’d rather he’d get them himself, ’cause -he’s so pleased when he beats anybody; but if he can’t--why, I will--I -hope. Now I know ’bout them, he must have them.” - -“Hm-m,” said Lord Plunkett again, grimly. “Oddest child. Like her. -Immensely.” - -“Steenie!” called Mr. Calthorp; and she darted toward him. “Are you -sure that you wish to ride in this exhibition, darling? Are you timid? -Because there are a great many here, it seems; and you need not if you -do not like. It will be different from an ordinary occasion.” - -“But I do wish, Papa dear, if you don’t mind; because Bob would break -his heart if I didn’t. He told me so. And I’m going to win, too. Then -I’ll get a lot of money to give poor old Jim, for his mother. Yes, yes! -I want to ride! And I will--win!” - - - - -CHAPTER IV. - - -[Illustration: SUTRO’S EXHIBITION.] - -Before the entertainment really began, Sutro Vives gave a little -private exhibition on his own account; and his dashings to and fro -across the arena, directly in Lord Plunkett’s point of view, were -intended to excite that gentleman’s curiosity and admiration,--which -object was accomplished. - -“Gorgeous. Old Spaniard. Silver. Robbed a mine.” - -Steenie, mounted on her piebald Tito, was standing close to the seat -erected for the proprietor, and explained for his benefit: “Oh, Sutro -has had all those things for ever so long; since he was a young man, I -b’lieve. He said he would show you what an ‘old Ca’fornian caballero -was like!’ See! He’s all red and yellow and white. Listen to the tinkle -of the silver chains among his trappings! Isn’t he proud as proud--my -Sutro? My father says his vanity would be ’musing if it weren’t so -’thetic.” - -“Pathetic, dear;” corrected Mr. Calthorp, guided by her voice to her -side. - -“Pathetic? Why?” demanded Lord Plunkett. - -“Because although his family was once wealthy, almost beyond compute, -this poor old fellow is reduced to live a dependent on the lands that -were his fathers’, now a stranger’s. His shrivelled body in that gay -attire is but a fitting type of his changed fortunes.” - -“Why! Pshaw! Hm-m,” commented his lordship, uneasily, distressed, as he -ever was, by thought of any other’s unhappiness. - -“But, Papa dear, isn’t he always talking about his ‘estate’? He says -that he is richer still than anybody hereabout; and that if he wants -money all he has to do is--something or other!” - -“The case with most of us,” laughed Mr. Calthorp. “But Sutro does still -retain a small piece of property,--small as compared with his former -possessions, apparently as worthless as the Mojave. It is the last -spur of the mountain range on the east, there; and, from its peculiar -summit--a gigantic rock cleft into three peaks--called Santa Trinidad. -Can you see? Point it out, Steenie, please.” - -“Yes, yes. See. Barren. Worth nothing?” - -“So I think. So others have thought; or worth so little that in any -transfer of this _hacienda_ [estate] no purchaser has been anxious to -possess La Trinidad, even if it had been for sale. There are many ugly -traditions concerning it; but the plain and existing fact is quite ugly -enough for me. It is infested with rattlesnakes, its cloven crest being -their especial home.” - -“Hm-m. Crime. Exterminate. Should be.” - -“They do not wander far afield; but, should they become troublesome -they would, doubtless, be exterminated. The Indians are their natural -enemies--or friends; seeming to have no fear of them, yet killing them -off in great numbers for the sake of their oil, which is sold at high -prices.” - -“Try to buy it. Trinidad. Hm-m. How much to offer?” - -“I cannot advise you; for Sutro would fix its value at an absurdly -enormous figure. Besides, there is no hope of his selling. Hark! Isn’t -that the signal for the ‘Grand Entree’?” - -The notes of a fifer, playing merrily, floated across the arena. It -was the signal agreed upon, and the thirty-odd horsemen who were to -participate in the tournament gathered hastily behind the canvas screen -on the opposite side of the campus. - -Now, as has been said, Steenie was not expected to ride until the -closing part of the entertainment; and she might have remained by her -father’s side, a mere spectator of all the rest, had she so desired; -but when, at the first notes of the musician’s call, old Sutro plunged -spur into Mazan´’s flank and dashed forward to the meet, her excitement -rose to the highest. She sit still and watch!--while Tito’s dainty -hoofs were dancing up and down, like feminine feet eager for the waltz! -No, no! Not so, indeed! Away she flew, and the piebald horse followed -the brown mare behind the canvas wall. - -“Tra-la-la! Tra-la-la! Toot-a-toot!” Emerged the young Mexican fifer -on his sturdy broncho; and though he was proud indeed of his position -that day, he was but the preface to the story,--unnoticed and of small -account. - -Sutro Vives really led the cavalcade, having been appointed to this -honor because of his age, and perhaps of his assumption,--for he was -not the one to lose the prestige a little swagger gives to a weak -argument; and, although he was a fine rider, there were many others -finer, and Kentucky Bob’s great gray horse was far ahead of pretty -Mazan´ for symmetry and graceful strength. - -However, the latter person was quite willing to “play second fiddle so -long’s the Little Un’s with me,” and she had naturally guided Tito to -the gray’s side. - -The other actors in the entertainment followed in single file, and even -a captious critic would have been forced to admit that they made a -magnificent appearance. The glossy sides, the waving manes and tails, -the gay caparisons and the regular hoof-beats of the beautiful animals -fitly accorded with that free bearing of the stalwart riders, which is -native to those who dwell in wide spaces and under no roof but the sky. - -Upon Lord Plunkett, to whom all this was new, the impression made by -that scene was profound. It exceeded his highest expectations, and -they had been great. It made him feel himself a bigger man--physically -and mentally--to be served by such men as these, and his kindly heart -warmed to the “Americans” then and there with a degree of respect and -cordiality he had never before accorded them. - -Then the marchings and countermarchings began, and Steenie with a -childish caprice darted out of the ranks again and back to her father’s -side, to whom she eagerly described all that was going forward; already -learning with the intuition of her tender heart to become “sight to -the blind,” and assuming toward him a motherly air which sat quaintly -enough upon her merry face. - -“Eh? What? Hm-m. Why?” queried the guest of honor, as, some time later, -a prolonged shout rent the air; for he could see nothing especially -fine about the half-dozen lads who now rode into the arena upon the -backs of their rough-coated bronchos. - -“The programme!” cried Steenie, determined that a paper prepared with -such labor by one of her “boys” should be duly appreciated. - -“Hm-m! ‘Number Seven. Knife Act!’ Well? What?” - -“Watch and see, dear Mr. Plunkett! Look--look! It’s better than -telling.” - -“And something as difficult as rare,” added Mr. Calthorp. - -The performers of “Number Seven” rode quietly to the centre of the -field, where one stooped to plunge into the soft earth a large knife, -burying the blade to the hilt. Then the six horsemen wheeled and rode -slowly back to the starting-point, whence, at the fifer’s signal, they -began a wild and wide circuit of the “ring,” repeating this several -times. Each repetition brought them nearer to the centre; and at last, -when they had attained their maddest, fleetest pace, the contestants -uttered a shout, and bore down upon the projecting knife-handle. Each -rider leaned far out of his saddle, his brow almost sweeping the -ground, his eyes fixed upon one object, and his jaws set firmly for -their task. - -“But--don’t understand. Eh?” - -“The knife! the knife! See! Each has one trial; each seeks to be first. -See how they crowd! To pull it out with his teeth--See! See! Ah! -Natan´! Na-tan´!” The child’s voice rose to a shrill cheer, which was -caught up and echoed again and again. - -Natan´, indeed, who with the knife-hilt still in his teeth and the -fierce-looking blade presented to the view of the spectators, lifted -his hat in acknowledgment of the plaudits, and rode straight toward his -beloved “Mascot.” Then he accomplished a second feat, scarcely less -difficult than the first; for still at break-neck speed he reached -Steenie’s side, and, without touching the knife with his hands, thrust -it deftly through a gay little cockade fixed to Tito’s head-stall. Then -he rode off again at the same unbroken pace, and the “Seventh Number” -of the programme was ended. - -“Hark! the fifer again! That is my signal!” exclaimed Steenie, and -waving her hand, galloped away to join the “boys.” - -“Number Eight” was a trial of skill almost as difficult as the “knife -race” had been, and consisted in lifting from the ground, while riding -at full speed, a handkerchief which had been thrown there. Now, -Steenie’s childish arms could not compete with those of grown men, and -to supplement their shortness she was to hold the knife which Natan´ -had won, and catch up the handkerchief on its point,--if she could! - -“Of course, it is a foregone conclusion that she will win,” remarked -some person near Mr. Calthorp. “Those fellows idolize that child, and -they won’t half try to beat her.” - -“Beg pardon, but it will be a ‘fair, square’ trial,” corrected the -manager, turning toward the speaker. “Steenie would not ride if they -had not promised her that. She is determined to win, and I think she -will, but she will do so honestly. She is quicker of motion than the -others, and has a judgment about distances which seems like instinct. -Besides, she and Tito have grown up together, and he understands her -like a second self.” - -“Hm-m. Not afraid? Danger? Thrown?” - -“No, my lord, I am not afraid. She never was thrown, and she began her -riding in the first year of her life.” - -“Eh? What? Amazing! ‘California story’?” - -The proud father laughed. “A ‘California story,’ certainly, but a true -one. Those fellows adopted her from the outset. They fixed up a sort -of box-saddle, cushioned and perfectly safe, and strapped it on Tito’s -back. He was but a colt then, and I would not have allowed it perhaps; -but they persuaded Suzan´ in my absence, and when I saw how it worked I -did not object. That is how it began. To-day--it ends.” - -A sudden wave of regret swept over poor Mr. Calthorp’s heart, and -turning away from a spectacle his affliction prevented his witnessing, -he sought the retirement of his own apartments. “My dear little girl! -How changed her life will be! From this freedom, this queenship, into -the restriction of a country town and the submission of a schoolroom. -Best for her, doubtless, but--poor little Steenie!” - -Meanwhile Steenie neither pitied nor even thought of herself. Side -by side with four other competitors, the piebald Tito kept his own -place, and tossed his head in equine enjoyment of the excitement, while -his young mistress applauded him softly, with that praise which was -incitement as well. - -Round and round the course, till the child’s eyes glittered and her -cheeks glowed at the shouts of encouragement which reached her from -every point. “Go it, Little Un!” “Hurrah for the ‘Mascot’!” “The Little -Un’ll win, you bet!” - -Such admiration is not the best mental diet for a young human being, -perhaps, but it had not as yet hurt Steenie; and this was probably -the last time that it would be hers. With a loyal recognition of the -good-will expressed, she waved her hand and laughed and nodded, and -“rode her level best.” - -“Don’t ye let nobody better ye, Little Un, else you’ll break Bob’s old -heart!” warned that worthy, himself urging the gray horse to its utmost. - -“Not I!” returned his pupil, and dashed ahead. - -Evidently the contest was between these two, who had outstripped the -rest, and now crowded each other for the shortest line toward the -fluttering bit of cambric on the path before them. - -“Hurrah! Hurrah! Tito, my Tito! Now, now! _Vamos!_ Quick--a spurt! -Win--you must!” - -Under the very nose of the gray, the little piebald darted, with his -rider half-hanging from the saddle and the knife ready for action. Even -Bob’s well-trained animal swerved a little,--a trifle merely, but it -cost his master the prize. - -No perceptible halt, but a dip, a rise, and Tito was already half-way -across the course again, his mistress rising in her saddle, and waving -triumphantly above her head the shining knife with the handkerchief it -had pierced clinging about the hilt. - -[Illustration: Waving triumphantly above her head the shining knife -with the handkerchief.--Page 58.] - -If they had cheered before, the crowd went fairly wild at that. Old -Sutro and Connecticut Jim, sworn enemies that they were, turned in -their saddles and hugged each other. Lord Plunkett shouted and waved -till he looked apoplectic; and the reiterated cheers, “Another for the -Little Un!” “Another!” brought Mr. Calthorp from his darkened office -once more, this time with a smile upon his lips. - -But the hour grew late, and the assemblage hungry. There was, -accordingly, no delay in giving the last exhibition, which was -Steenie’s alone. - -“The child--prodigy--must not leave. Like her; like her!” said Lord -Plunkett again, as the manager approached. - -“I am glad that you are pleased; but I think that you will enjoy this -driving scene even more. There is no racing, no danger. If the horses -are not out of training, their action is wonderfully fine and graceful. -Does that shout mean her entrance?” - -“No. Horsemen. Single. Taking stations--regular intervals--around the -track.” - -“Yes; I understand. They do that to watch the horses, for the child’s -sake. At the least intimation of any animal being fractious or out -of accord with the rest, the nearest caballero rides up and sets the -matter right. Usually a word of command will answer, but sometimes an -outrider accompanies her for the whole distance,--an extra one, I mean, -besides Bob, who always follows close behind Steenie; generally in -silence, but ready with advice if it is needed. That second signal--is -it she?” - -“Yes. Pretty! pretty!” - -In her little wagon, to which was attached a wide, curious -whiffle-tree, Steenie emerged from the canvas gateway, driving a -pair of matched bays. The fifer had stationed himself in the centre -of the plain, with a drummer beside him; and if the music they there -discoursed was not sweet, at least it was inspiriting, and rendered -in good time. Best of all, it was the same that had been used in -training the horses, and they recognized it at once, falling into step -immediately and almost perfectly. - -The tune of “Yankee Doodle” fits perfectly the stepping of a horse; -besides which, it is patriotic, and Kentucky Bob was nothing if not -American. To the tune of “Yankee Doodle,” then, this “act” was given; -and though Mr. Calthorp smilingly apologized that they had not chosen -“God Save the Queen,” the delighted Englishman “didn’t mind in the -least.” - -“What, what! another pair, eh? Hey?” - -“Has she made the circuit once?” - -“Yes. Four; drives four!” - -Around the course again danced the horses, four abreast, and not a -break in their paces from start to finish. - -“You darlings! you have never done so well! Do you know that I am to -drive you no more? And are you being just perfect and splendid for -that?” - -“Maybe it’s ’cause they’re afeard of the Britisher!” said a vaquero, -teasingly. - -“No, no! it’s because they love me. Now, you others, remember--not one -blunder!” This to the third pair which was being attached to the cart, -these last in advance of the other four. - -It really was wonderful,--so wonderful that not a sound was heard save -the strains of the music and the unbroken “pat-pat” of those rhythmic -hoof-beats. But when the fourth circuit was completed, and waving the -soft reins which her childish hands seemed too small to hold, Steenie -stood up in her wagon behind the eight now motionless horses, a cheer -went forth that dwarfed all which had gone before, and that caused -actual tears to dim the vision of happy Kentucky Bob. - -“Ah, ha! my Little Un! you done me proud! I can gin up livin’ now! -There’ll never be nothin’ better ’n that sight fer these blamed watery -eyes! Not a fail, not a break-step, not a nothin’, but jest cl’ar -bewitchments!” - -“There you spoke. Nothing but a witch-bairn, yet the bonniest this -earth ever saw!” chimed in the Scotch gardener. - -“Are you glad, dear Bob?” - -“Glad? I’m heart-broke! I--I--Oh, my Little Un! you wouldn’t go fer to -leave San’ Felisy after this, would you?” - -“Hark! the prizes! That queer little Englishman ’ll bust his b’iler -soon if somebody don’t pay heed to him! He’s a dancin’ a reg’lar jig -over there to catch our ’tention. I ’low you’ll have to be took to him, -Miss Steenie!” cried Tony Miller. - -“An’ I’m the man ’at’ll do it!” responded her proud instructor, as, -swinging his small pupil to her accustomed place on his broad shoulder, -he strode away toward Lord Plunkett’s bench. - -“Hm-m! Gives pleasure! Clever--wonderful! Prize--won it! Eh? What? -Everybody?” - -“Huckleberries! Won it--of--course! Knew she would!” - -Stooping low, Steenie extended her hand eagerly for the purse -outstretched toward her, and for a moment a revulsion of feeling swept -over the donor’s heart. For the sake of the reward, then? So mercenary, -was she? - -But she had no sooner received it, and murmured her hasty “Thank you,” -than she demanded, “Jim! Jim! I want Jim!” - -Ah! my lord had forgotten “Jim,” and he watched curiously as the shy -fellow made his way through the crowd to Bob’s side. - -“Here, Jim! I’ve won it. It’s all for you. For your consumption,--your -mother’s, I mean. That is, I’m going to give it to you if you’ll -promise me one thing. You will, won’t you, dear Jim?” - -“I--I--Miss Steenie--I don’t understand.” - -“Please don’t be stupid, Jim! Think. Didn’t you tell me ’bout the -dear old mother an’ her consumption, an’ how, if it wasn’t for your -‘habits,’ you’d bring her out to California to live in the sunshine; -but fast as you get your wages, away they go on your ‘habits’? Didn’t -you, Jim Sutton?” - -“Ye-es,” shamefacedly. - -“Well, you thought the Little Un didn’t know what ‘habits’ were; but I -asked my father, and he says your ‘habits’ make you drink bad liquor -an’ stuff, an’ waste your earnings. You’re a good man, my father says, -an’ trustible, only for them. So now, you see, we’ve got ahead of them -for once; and I want you to take this money and send to that cold place -and bring that good old mother right away out here. Then you won’t be -lonesome when I’m gone, and she’ll keep you out of ‘habits,’ like you -said she could. Will you?” - -“Will I, Little Un? You bet! An’--an’--I can’t talk. Bob, you take it. -You say sunthin’ fer me,--purty, like it orter be said. But--Lord!--I -can’t--she ain’t--no Little Un, no ‘Mascot,’ she ain’t; she’s a -genooine-angel!” - -And Steenie wondered why almost everybody cried. - - - - -CHAPTER V. - - -[Illustration: MR. CALTHORP AND STEENIE] - -Some days later a very weary gentleman in blue goggles and a restless -little girl in queer attire, occupying a section of a railway sleeper, -heard the welcome announcement of the guard passing through the train: -“Next station will be Jersey City. Jer-sey-Ci-ty’s-the-next-sta-tion!” - -Then followed the expressman with his insinuating question of, -“Baggage, sir? Delivered any part of the city--baggage?” And the -newsboy with his patois of, “N’ Yo’k pape’s? Pos’-Sun-’Elegram-World! -Pape’s? N’ Yo’k pape’s?” - -By that time all the passengers were in a bustle of excitement,--women -hunting and strapping stray parcels; men standing up to stretch their -cramped limbs, while smiling congratulations to one another that their -three-thousand mile journey was safely accomplished. - -Cries of, “Porter, my coat!” “This way, Joe! give me a brush next!” -“Oh, we’re almost in! See?” echoed here and there. Now, through -rows of houses, crowding faster and faster upon one another; and -then over a net-work of iron rails, between numberless cars of -every sort,--constantly threatening a collision that was always -avoided,--pushed and panted the great “Overland,” like an exhausted -living creature longing for rest. - -All this was very familiar to Mr. Calthorp, but quite new and -formidable to his little daughter, who nestled a bit closer to his -side, and looked about her with wide, observant eyes. - -“Are you not glad, Steenie, my darling? A few more trifling changes to -make, another two hours of railway journeying, and then we shall be at -Old Knollsboro, at Grandmother’s.” - -“As glad as anything, Papa dear, only--” She checked herself suddenly, -remembering her farewell promise to Kentucky Bob that she would “keep -a stiff upper lip, an’ not let the ‘Boss’ see her weaken, no matter if -she did get homesick!” - -“Only what, dear?” - -“Why--why--I don’t know. I feel so kind of queer and sick-y inside of -me. I’m not ill--like eating too much candy; but--I don’t feel very -nice. I mean, it’s all right, dear Papa. And I am really, truly glad. -’Cause then you’ll get rested, won’t you? And you’ll go to the eye-man -and be fixed; and then--maybe--I s’pose we’ll go home again.” - -But already the train had stopped, and the porter, who had neglected -these two for more importunate passengers, hurried up to give them a -farewell “brush” and to help them with their parcels. - -Alas! poor Mr. Calthorp required assistance now as he had not done at -familiar Santa Felisa. The close confinement, the almost sleepless -nights of the long journey, and the growing anxiety, had affected his -dim vision most unfavorably; and the constant attention of his little -daughter was necessary to him as he stepped from the car and joined the -throng of liberated passengers passing forward into the station. - -“Lead me into the ticket office. Can you make it out? Ask any man in -uniform.” - -Steenie looked up startled. There was a sharp, imperious note in her -father’s voice which was new to her, forced from him by the sudden -conviction that he was no longer losing his sight, but that it was -already lost, and that he had come eastward--too late. - -Obediently the little girl touched the arm of an official, passing at -that moment. “Please, sir, will you tell us where to go? My father--” - -Mr. Calthorp took the explanation from her lips, and the man in the -blue uniform looked compassionately upon these two who seemed so -helpless, and whose manner so plainly bore the stamp of the far west, -where threading narrow streets and dodging crowds are not every-day -events. - -“Sorry, little one, but--I’m in a hurry. Call somebody else;” and he -turned away. - -As he did so, he caught the quiver of a girlish, travel-soiled lip, and -a look of terror in a pair of big blue eyes; and his feet refused to -carry him further from the spot. - -“Pshaw! Almost train-time--hm-m. All right, Sissy. Here, this way, -sir;” and slipping his arm through Mr. Calthorp’s, the conductor of an -out-going “express” wheeled sharply about, and guided his charges into -a waiting-room, where he consigned them to: “Here, you, twenty-seven! -Look out for these folks! There you are, little one. This man will--” -The rest was lost in the distance as, with the skill of a veteran -railroader, the kind conductor boarded an already moving car and -disappeared. - -A little act; but it cleared the mists from Steenie’s eyes and the -anxiety from her heart, for already “Twenty-seven” was saying in tones -of cheery friendliness, “All right, little missy! Whar yo’ an’ yo’ pa -wanter go at?” - -Mr. Calthorp’s explanations were repeated with such clearness that, in -another moment, a cab had been summoned, the travellers assisted into -it, and the station-man dismissed, with a smile shining on his black -face and a new quarter in his palm. - -“I’m not a bit afraid now, Papa darling. I was just at first, ’cause I -didn’t understand the place. But don’t you be worried now, we’re all -right; and won’t my grandmother be glad to see you!” - -The returning invalid had his own opinion on that matter; but he did -not dampen Steenie’s courage by expressing it. - -She went on, heedless of his silence. “My! what folks and folks! More -than ever came to our circus--even that last one! And what makes ’em -almost run? They ’bout hit each other, don’t they? What big wagons! Oh, -that’s a pretty horse! What big ones at that wagon full of ’normousest -barrels! Why are they so many, many folks, Papa dear? Ah, we’re -stopping!” - -More confusion--more changes; but always somebody at hand to guide -them, for Mr. Calthorp had recovered his usual calm, alert manner, and -could direct, if he could not see his path. A second brief railway -trip, through which Steenie slept comfortably against her father’s -arm, and then--they were standing before the great door of a big white -house, whence a brass lion’s-head knocker grinned maliciously upon -them. Though unguided by his eyes, Mr. Calthorp’s hand rose naturally -till it seized a curious bar-like tongue which hung from the beast’s -mouth, and struck it sharply against the polished plate. - -“Whack! Rat-a-tat!” - -Which brought the sound of approaching feet; and the door opened -noiselessly, to show within the aperture a very stiff old man. - -“Is Madam Calthorp at home?” - -“Yes. But--my-soul-I-declare! Is it you, Mr. Daniel?” - -“And you, Resolved Tubbs? I know your voice!” The visitor’s hand was -extended and clasped, though cautiously, by the trembling one of the -old servitor. “My eyes--” - -“I see, I see, sir. This way--you know--Madam is in the library. I -don’t think she expected you so soon.” - -“Maybe not. Though my secretary wrote.” - -“This way, sir.” Mr. Tubbs had become himself again: a wooden-visaged -old man who liked to express no opinion whatever, till it had been -formed for him by his mistress of many years. He had not been able -yet to judge whether that mistress would rejoice at this home-coming -of her only son, or not; and he waited his cue before knowing his own -sentiments. - -“Ah! if it is as it used to be, I can find my own way, Resolved. The -table by the wall--I recall its red wool cover with the black stamp -exactly in the middle; the two oaken chairs here; and here--the -hat-rack! At home, indeed! Even the very aroma of lavender and -southernwood from those upper chambers is unchanged!” - -Then the blue goggles could not hide the gladness which leaped to the -son’s face as he turned the brass knob of the library door, and cried -out, “Mother! are you here?” - -There was a moment’s hesitation, which Daniel Calthorp’s dim eyes could -not see; then the rustle of silken skirts, and the stately old lady of -the mansion had risen from her chair and crossed the room, to take her -boy’s hands in her own, and to imprint upon his bearded cheek a kiss of -greeting. “So soon, Daniel? I had not looked for you until next week.” - -“Yes; I had a message sent. You see, I was able to get through a bit -earlier, and I could endure no unnecessary delay. Here, darling, this -is Grandmother.” - -In all her life Steenie had never looked upon the face of any woman who -bore a kinship to herself, and the dreams of her romantic little heart -had clustered about this unknown relative with an intensity such as -only childhood knows. So she scarcely waited to have her elders’ hands -unclasped before she sprang forward between her father and his mother, -and precipitated herself upon that lady’s neck. “Oh, I thought you -would be pretty! but you’re prettier than anything I ever saw!” - -Madam Calthorp staggered a little,--perhaps from the violence of this -attack upon her person, perhaps from surprise at the words; then she -quietly loosened the child’s clinging arms and released herself. “You -are an impulsive little girl, Steenie! Let me see, how old are you?” - -“Ten; going on ’leven.” - -“Say ‘eleven.’ You are very large of your age; I should think you might -be older.” - -Then there was an awkward silence, which the son broke by groping -across the room to a sofa in the bay-window, where he sank down as if -exhausted. Steenie bounded to his side, flashing a defiant glance at -the tall old madam as she passed. “What is it, my Papa? Are you ill?” - -“No, no; not at all! But we are both travel-soiled, and unfit for your -dainty rooms, Mother. What quarters have you given us? We will go and -freshen up a bit.” - -Old Tubbs, still waiting outside the door, listened critically for his -mistress’s reply. From it he would form his own basis of action. - -“I gave you the spare chamber, Daniel; your daughter can take the -little room next.” But Madam’s voice, saying this, sounded as if she -were somewhat perplexed. - -“Hm-m!” said Resolved to himself, “if she’d answered up quick, -‘Your old room,’ I’d a knowed she was glad, an’ meant things as -they uset ter be. But--‘spare room!’ that means he’s comp’ny. She -hain’t fergot how he went away, ner the dozen years between. Well, -my--soul--I--declare-I’m sure I know which side my bread’s buttered! -An’ comp’ny it is!” - -“Shall I carry yer bag, Mr. Daniel?” asked this astute servant, as the -travellers emerged from the library. - -“No! oh, no! thank you. I fancy I’m better able than you, old fellow. -Nothing wrong with me but my eyes. This way, sweetheart.” - -Whatever the feeling of disappointment in Daniel Calthorp’s heart, -there was nothing but gayety in Steenie’s, as she tripped merrily up -the broad stairs behind him,--stopping now to examine the slender -polished rods which held the carpet in place, and now to gaze through -the window on the landing at the old-fashioned garden, where the late -April snows still lingered in the clefts of the lilac branches and made -a white border for the rows of box. - -“Oh! isn’t it just like a storybook? And my grandmother looks like -pictures of queens. She makes me think of the cleanest things I ever -saw. Did you notice?” - -“Be eyes for me, little one, and tell me just what you saw. Her face, -is it wrinkled? Is her hair gray? Did she wear glasses?” - -“Her face is white,--whiter than anybody’s I ever saw, ’cept Irish -Kate’s little baby’s. And her hair is like that pretty snow out there, -all round little rolls each side her eyes; and she has some soft white -stuff on her head, and more around her neck and her wrists. Her dress -is black silk, and--I love her!” - -“I’m glad--very glad of that!” exclaimed Mr. Calthorp, earnestly. The -power of Steenie’s love he believed to be irresistible. - -“But isn’t Mr. Tubbs funny? He makes me think of raisin grapes that -haven’t dried right. And he wears his spectacles up on the bald part of -his head; and he looks lots older ’n Sutro. How old is he, Papa?” - -“Maybe seventy; I don’t know exactly. Now, can you make yourself tidy -alone? There are no young women servants in this old house, and you -must do everything you can for yourself. But I will help you with your -hair if it bothers you, as I did, or tried to do, on the train.” - -However, he was saved this trouble; for at that moment came a knock -upon the door of the little room assigned to Steenie, and, at her swift -opening of it, an old lady entered. - -At least Steenie called her “lady,” and was amazed when this prim -person, in the black alpaca gown and wearing spectacles, remarked: -“Madam sent me to wash and dress you. Come here!” - -“But--I--I can do it for myself. I’d rather. I’m very soiled; the car -was so dusty And you look so clean! Everybody is so ter’ble clean -here!” - -“Hoity-toity! Come. I’ve no time ter waste.” - -Steenie moved forward, slowly, and greatly wondering. It had seemed -all right to have gay young Suzan´ preside at her toilet, but a -severe-looking and venerable creature like this was quite a different -matter. - -“Where is the bath-room, please?” - -“The bath-room! There ain’t none. Hm-m. Did ye expect a palace?” - -“A palace! I was talking ’bout water. What’ll I do then? I’ve been -a’most a week in that dirty car--and I--Maybe Papa knows.” She applied -at her father’s key-hole for advice, and he took the direction of -affairs into his own hands. - -“Just fix up a tub in your old wash-room, won’t you, Mary Jane? And let -Steenie have her splash there. It will save messing your clean room, -and I will explain to my mother.” - -Mary Jane went away with a sniff, and her nose in the air; sternly -muttering about “folks turning the house topsy-turvy, an’ thinkin’ the -hull world b’longed to ’em;” and Steenie followed, meekly. She was very -much in terror of the sharp-visaged old spinster, whose favor she had, -however, unwittingly won by her desire for cleanliness; although Mary -Jane was not the woman to admit that at once. She was shown into the -bare-floored, and rather chilly wash-room, where a round blue tub was -deposited upon the boards with a decided bang, and promptly partially -filled with several buckets full of cold water from the “system” pump, -after which Mary Jane disappeared. - -Then the new-comer forgot her fear in her curiosity, and was busily -poking about, inspecting her surroundings, when her ancient attendant -re-entered, tossed another pail of boiling water into the previous ones -of cold, and again withdrew. - -An hour later, Steenie, very fresh and dainty in her white frock, and -with her rebellious curls brushed into a semblance of order by her -father’s untrained hand, bounded gayly through the long, cold halls, -and in at the library door, just in time to overhear the old servant -explaining to Madam: “She’ll be a cruel lot o’ trouble, an’ mebbe the -death on us with her noise; but--she’s clean! Why, ma’am, she says she -takes a hull body-wash, ever’ day on her life, an’ sometimes twicet! -An’ if it’s the truth, she’s one youngun out of a million! an’ the -only one ’t I ever see ’t liked water in her nateral state. She’s a -phenomely. But--my floor! When I went in, half an hour arterwards, -there she stood, dancin’ a reg’lar jig, roun’ an’ roun’, an’ splashin’ -the suds all over her an’ the boards, an’ ever’ conceivable thing! I -scairt her out, lively; an’ all she could say fer herself was: ‘It -seemed so good an’ funny to use a roun’ tub, stidder a reg’lar long -one.’ She’d a splotched out the last drop in another minute. She must a -be’n brung up a reg’lar heathen, an’ her Mr. Dan’l’s only!” - -Steenie, poised on tip-toe, listened to the close of the harangue; -certain from the words that Mary Jane was frightfully angry and from -the tone that she was rather pleased. But, at that moment, Madam -Calthorp perceived her, and motioned silence to the speaker. - -“But I’m not a heathen, Mary Jane! My father says a heathen is one who -worships idols, an’ I wouldn’t be such a dunce as that. I’ve a whole -lot of Indian idols at San’ Felisa, an’ they’re as ugly as ugly. The -silly things make them out of the same clay they do their jars and -dishes, an’ the jars are far prettier. My father says--” - -“Steenie, why have you put on a white frock on such a day as this?” - -“Why?” repeated the puzzled visitor. “It’s a clean one, only wrinkled -in the packing.” - -“But--a white dress in April! It is wholly out of place. You will get -sick, and have to be taken care of. Take it off at once.” - -All the gayety died out of the child’s face, rosy from recent -scrubbings with soap and water, and radiant with health, and a look of -strange perplexity succeeded. “I--I can’t, Grandmother. I haven’t any -other.” - -“No--other--frock!” - -“Not that is clean. My car one is ter’ble dirty an’ dusty. My father -says it isn’t fit to wear any more; and my horseback one isn’t -unpacked; an’ my rest are just like this. I’m sorry if it isn’t right;” -with a deprecatory little gesture that appealed strangely to Madam -Calthorp’s cold heart. - -“Well, well! Do you wear such clothes as these all winter in -California?” - -“Yes; I do. My father says ’at white is the only ’propriate color for a -little girl.” - -“White is not a color, Steenie. Learn to be accurate. But--go and ask -Mary Jane to give you my gray cashmere shawl, then put it on directly. -If you have no suitable clothes, some must be procured for you.” - -“Yes’m,” answered Steenie, obediently, and ran away,--to return -presently, sheathed in a great gray calyx, from which her flower-like -face peered mischievously out. Then her father’s steps were heard -descending the stairs, slowly, and the child darted off, once more, to -clasp his arm with a vigor that denoted deep emotion. “Oh, Papa, it was -too bad we came! Do you know she doesn’t want us? My pretty, very own -Grandmother! She doesn’t say so, but I know it. She doesn’t!” - -Daniel Calthorp drew his darling closer to his side; and though he -smiled brightly enough, his own heart echoed the disappointed words. He -had known from the moment when his mother’s voice had fallen on his now -super-sensitive ear that his coming had brought her no pleasure, and -that she had been too truthful to put into her welcome a warmth which -she did not feel. - -“Then we must be so patient and kind to her, sweetheart, that she can’t -help being glad, after awhile. I depend upon you, my Blue Eyes, to work -a miracle.” - -So they entered the Madam’s presence once more, and together; and -though she saw something pathetic in the grouping of that helpless -pair, the disturbance and annoyance which their coming was to her calm, -self-sufficient life far outweighed her pity. - - - - -CHAPTER VI. - - -[Illustration: STEENIE READING.] - -“My-soul-I-declare! you here? Don’t ye know Madam don’t ’low nobody to -tetch her books?” almost shouted Resolved Tubbs, entering the library -on the morning following “Mr. Daniel’s” arrival, and, early as the hour -was, finding the place already occupied by Steenie. Sprawling flat upon -the hearth rug, and supporting herself upon her elbows, she turned the -leaves of a richly illustrated folio, while piles of other volumes were -heaped about her, in careless disregard of injured bindings. She did -not heed, because she did not hear, the reproof; for at that moment -her childish soul was deep in the “Inferno,” following the poet’s -dark imagings by the aid of Doré’s darker pencillings. She had had the -handling of few books in her short life, but she “took to them” as -naturally as did her stately grandmother, whose quiet existence for -many years had been among them almost wholly. - -“Don’t you hear, sissy? You mustn’t tetch ’em, I tell ye! Git up, -quick! I--I dunno what on airth she’d say if she was ter come in this -minute!” - -“What, sir?” asked Steenie, absently, lifting a face white with horror, -“is it true?” - -“True as the gospel; you’d better look out!” - -“Is it near here,--near this very Old Knollsboro’ town?” - -“Hm-m! I vum I never see nothin’ like ye! I do b’lieve ye ain’t right -bright!” - -“Is it?” again demanded the child, oblivious to any personal remarks. - -“I dunno nothin’ ’bout printed trash, an’ you hain’t no call to, -nuther. But you’ll hear sunthin’ ’at ’ll make yer ears buzz if you -don’t put them books right square back where ye got ’em! I ain’t a -goin’ ter wait on ye, like you ’pear ter be uset ter havin’ folks do! -I’ve got the fires ter ’tend, the chores ter do, an’ ten thousan’ more -pesky things, all this very mornin’, an’ my lumbago achin’ me fit ter -split.” - -“What’s a lumbago?” asked Steenie, sitting up cross-legged, and trying -to hold the great book on her small lap. - -“It’s--Thunder an’ lightnin’! Ou--uch!” With a groan that was almost -a yell, Resolved arose from the stooping posture which, in an unwary -moment, he had assumed before the grate he was cleaning, and clapped -his gnarled fingers to “the small of his back.” - -Whereupon Steenie likewise sprang up and retreated to the further -corner of the apartment, leaving the volume _de luxe_ to fall where -it happened. “What’s the matter?” she demanded, from that safe -distance, half-laughing, half-crying, for her vivid imagination had -been overwrought by the lurid pictures she had been studying, and Mr. -Tubbs’s shriek seemed to presage some of the intolerable torments which -she had seen depicted. - -“The lumbago, I told ye! Blast a youngun,--etarnally askin’ questions! -Wait till ye git ter be as old as I be, an’ you ’ll know, I guess!” - -“I’ll wait!” responded Steenie, willingly, and with no intentional -disrespect. - -“Ye will, will ye? you saas-box! Where ye ever lived ter have no -respect fer age?” And, mindless of his affliction, the exasperated Mr. -Tubbs started in pursuit of the offender, to drive her from his sight. - -But she, mistaking his intention, and fancying a terrible resemblance -between his pain-contorted face and the anguished ones of the “Inferno” -engravings, crouched back in her corner, and, throwing her arms up -rigidly above her head, uttered shriek after shriek of terror. Beyond -her mild dread of “seeing folks angry,” it was her first experience of -fear, and it took absolute possession of her mind. - -“Shet up! shet up! My-soul-I-declare, you’re the beatenest youngun I -ever see! Why on airth couldn’t ye stay back thar in Californy stidder -comin’ ter torment them ’at don’t want ye?” But as, in his eagerness to -quiet this unprecedented disturbance of that orderly house, the deluded -servant continued to advance menacingly, Steenie continued to scream; -until, in the midst of the uproar, a white-haired figure appeared in -the doorway, when she darted instantly forward and buried her face in -her grandmother’s skirt. - -As Resolved afterwards expressed it, he “was struck dumberfoun’ an’ -couldn’t say nothin’;” and as Steenie was also speechless, the -startled mistress of the house was left to draw her own conclusions -from the scene. - -“Steenie, look up!” - -Steenie shivered and obeyed. “Is it true, Grandmother? Does he really, -truly know?” Again that unwonted stirring in the hitherto cold heart of -the Madam moved her to ask almost gently, “What true, child?” - -“About men being twisted into trees--and swimming in -flames--and--and--awful everythings! He says so.” - -The lady’s eyes strayed more critically over the apartment, and, if any -of that perfectly trained woman’s movements could ever be such, the -start she gave was violent. Steenie felt herself pushed suddenly aside, -and saw her grandmother cross hastily to the ill-used Dante, which she -raised with a care far more loving than she had yet bestowed upon the -motherless child of her blind, only son. - -“Steenie! Steenie Calthorp! Listen to me. Understand me--fully. I -forbid you ever touching a single volume in this room, in this house, -which I do not, personally, place in your hands.” - -The little girl was too surprised to speak. When, at last, she found -her voice, she asked, innocently enough: “Aren’t they to read? The -books!” - -“By those who comprehend their value. But you are to obey me, -implicitly. Will you?” - -“Yes’m. So my father said,” answered Steenie, sweetly. “But, you see, -I didn’t know they weren’t to be looked at till Mr. Resolved said -so. We didn’t have any books at San’ Felisa, ’cept Papa’s figurey -ones, and some ’at didn’t have pictures. Only mine. The ‘boys’ used -to bring me lovely books, ever’ time they went to town. They was -‘Jack the Giant Killer,’ and the Andersen man’s, an’ a beau-u-tiful -‘Mother Goose’! Father Antonio sent me a prayer-book; but it was all -in Latin, and my father says I must learn English first.” The presence -of her grandmother had reassured the child against any danger from the -lumbago-frenzied Mr. Tubbs, and she now leaned contentedly against the -wall, coolly watching the disarranged volumes being returned to their -shelves, and quite free from any anger against anybody. But she could -not forget what she had seen, and when Madam Calthorp had finished -her labor, had closed and locked the glass doors of the old-fashioned -book-cases, and turned to leave the room, she went forward and clasped -the lady’s hand. “Did you ever read that book, Grandmother?” - -“Yes.” - -“Is it English?” - -“No, Italian. Dante, who wrote it, was an Italian poet.” - -“Is it near here,--where those poor people are?” - -“Steenie! Ah, how can I tell!” - -“Can’t you? I thought you knew everything. My father says you are the -most intelligy woman of his ’quaintance. He said he wished I could be -like you; but he didn’t think I could, ’cause something was the matter -with my nature, ’at made it diff’rent.” - -“Say ‘dif-fer-ent,’ Steenie. Speak all your words distinctly.” - -“Dif-fer-ent. It takes longer, doesn’t it?” - -“It commonly takes longer to do things well than ill. It is the fault -of the present generation to slur everything, in its rush for ‘time.’” - -“Yes’m,” assented Steenie, politely, to whom this was as Greek. - -“Did you ever go to school, my dear?” - -“No. But my father says I may while I’m here. I don’t much care about -it.” - -“Why not?” - -“Oh, ’cause. One thing, it’s in a house, he says, an’ I like out-doors. -I never stay in the house, ’cept nights. Here comes Papa! Is breakfast -ready? I’m awful hungry.” - -Steenie’s manners and speech continually jarred upon Madam Calthorp’s -ideas of propriety; and propriety was the rule of her solitary life. -But, although she had dreaded this invasion of her quiet by a “noisy -child,” and by the son whose many years of absence had made him seem a -stranger to her, yet she was impartial enough to acknowledge that there -was something very winning and lovable about the little girl. - -Breakfast over, mother and son retired to the library to “talk -business,” and the other member of the family party was left free to -amuse herself as she chose. “Only take care not to meddle, nor get into -mischief, darling,” added Mr. Calthorp to his kiss of dismissal. - -“Not if I can help it, Papa dear, but ’most ever’thing here seems to be -‘mischief.’ I think I’ll go out-doors.” - -Madam did not hear this decision, or she would have forbidden it,--not -from any desire to thwart Steenie’s enjoyment, but because the child -was not fitly apparelled to appear on the streets of respectable Old -Knollsboro, where, though fashions were not advanced, very rigid -notions were held of what should or should not be worn. - -Bare-headed and in her white frock, still bundled about with the gray -cashmere shawl, the little stranger wandered out into the garden, and -thence to the street. - -April was half gone, and till then the weather had been cold; but that -morning came one of those sudden changes which seem like summer warmth -gone astray. The snow-patches melted swiftly, the frozen sidewalks -thawed, and the whole earth became a bed of softest mud, over which -Steenie pursued her sticky way, too intent upon her other surroundings -to notice what went on beneath her feet. - -“How the birds sing! There are more birds here than at San’ Felisa, I -do b’lieve. And the sun shines a’most as bright. Dear me! I wish I’d -worn my hat--but never mind. This shawl’s awful hot. I’ll take it off -an’ lay it on the fence. Hm-m. How funny! Everybody has a big white -house an’ a little white railing around it, an’ that’s all. But it -looks pleasant down that road. I wish Tito was here. Dear, darling -Tito! It seems--” - -“Whooa! Whooa! I say! Hold--on--don’t--whooa-a!” - -Steenie turned swiftly round. Down the street behind her galloped a -wildly excited horse, with a little girl on his back; while following -fast came a second beast, ridden by a terrified groom. The small -equestrian had lost her control of her animal,--if control she had -ever had,--and he had taken fright or become suddenly vicious; keeping -just so far in advance of the pursuer as to avoid capture, and dancing -upon his hind legs between whiles, in a manner inimical to any rider’s -safety and doubly dangerous to one so young as she who still clung to -her saddle, her fingers clasping the pommel in the rigidity of fear. - -“Oh, he’s running away! The naughty fellow!” - -Thought and action came together; for the very sound of a horse’s -foot-fall had roused Steenie’s spirit to its full activity, even before -she had turned to learn that the sound meant danger. - -“_Hola! Hola!_” she cried softly, and bounded into the road; skimming -the muddy surface like a swallow and racing as her old Indian friend, -Wanka, had taught her in the games at Santa Felisa. She had thrown up -her hand, warningly, to the groom, who, aghast at seeing a second child -rush into peril, checked his own horse, almost unconsciously. - -“That’s the wisest thing he could do! Why didn’t he stop before?” -thought Steenie; “that little girl’s horse knew he was being chased, -and--” - -The small hands on the pommel were slowly slipping loose; but the -fleet-footed westerner had gained the gray beast’s side, had sprung -upon it, had thrown herself astride the quivering shoulders, and caught -up the dangling bridle. - -“Hold on to me, girl! Tight--my waist--I’ll take care--_Hola, hola_, my -pretty one! _Ce, ce, ce!_ Wouldst thou? But, no!” - -How was it done? That is Steenie’s secret, learned from Kentucky Bob -and loyally kept because of her promise; but this is what happened: she -leaned her face far forward till her pretty lips were close beside the -frantic animal’s ear, and there cooed to him in half-whispered sounds, -till he paused for one second to listen,--and in that brief instant -yielded his equine will to her human one. - -“Good boy! So, so, my hero! Softly now,--as a well-bred horse should -go! Don’t you be afraid, little girl! He’s--what’s his name?” - -“Ki-inks,” faltered a timid voice. - -“Well, I should think so! He’s full of kinks; but he’s a beauty! Aren’t -you, dear?” which flattery the mettlesome creature seemed to heed, -for he fell into a measured pace, and tossed his mane proudly, as who -should say: “Behold me! A fine fellow am I!” - -A few rods further of this movement, then Steenie checked Kinks -entirely; and though he quivered and trembled, and looked nervously -around at the groom riding up and the crowds who had collected on the -sidewalk, he suffered the restraint imposed upon him by the stroking of -her soft little hands and her caressing voice. Then she asked: “Where -do you live, girl? Do you want to go home?” - -“Yes, yes! I live down there,” answered the rescued child, loosing one -arm from her preserver’s waist sufficiently to point forwards down the -avenue. - -“Shall I get off? Can you ride alone?” - -“No--no--no! Let me down! Please!” - -“Wait. Let me tell you. Is he your horse?” - -“Yes.” - -“Do you love him?” - -“Not--now. I did--but now I hate him! Let me down!” - -The groom approached and dismounted to obey this demand; but Steenie -wheeled sidewise, so that Kinks could look his stable-mate squarely in -the face. - -“Not yet, little girl. He’s beautiful, and you ought to want to ride -him. Why don’t you?” - -“I’m afraid.” - -“You needn’t be. Something made him angry; then he ran away. He’s -ashamed now.” - -“Ashamed? Why, how do you know?” - -“He says so, plain enough. See here, Kinksey, hold up your head. Look -at your little lady an’ tell her you’re sorry.” - -To the astonishment of every on-looker the little bareheaded stranger -coolly seized the gray’s forelock and pulled his head backward, so -that his eyes could be seen; and laughing softly, but lovingly, she -maintained his position till his owner leaned forward and satisfied her -own curiosity. - -“Why--it is so! He does look as if he wanted to hide!” - -It was quite true. If ever an equine countenance expressed shame and -regret, that of the now humbled Kinks did so at that moment. - -Probably it was the first time in their lives that the people in that -wondering crowd had ever thought whether a horse was capable of facial -expression; and it gave them food for reflection. Either their own eyes -deceived them, or the stranger child was a “witch,” or--a horse did -have emotions,--and showed them. - -“Now, you won’t be naughty and unkind to him, will you,--just because -he didn’t behave p’lite for once?” - -“I--I’m not naughty. He’s nothing but a horse, and I’m folks. I know -things.” - -“So does he. He knows more’n you or I do; an’ he didn’t have to go to -school, neither.” - -“You’re an awful funny girl.” - -“So are you. Say, shall I get off? Will you ride him alone?” - -“No--no! Stay on. If you will, I won’t get off at all. I’ll ride all -the way home. Will you?” - -“May I? ‘_Sta buen_’ [that is good]! But move back. I’m sitting horrid.” - -“Won’t I fall off?” - -“Won’t you--pooh! Are all girls afraid in Old Knollsboro?” - -“I--don’t--know.” - -“I hope not. I’ve had a great cur’osity to see another girl besides -myself, but I never did,--that is, to talk to ’em. If they’re all so -scarey as you, I shall be awful dis’pointed.” - -“You’re a nasty, mean, hateful thing! So there!” - -“Why--what?” The face which Steenie turned toward her companion showed -not the slightest resentment, but the sincerest astonishment. “What -did I do?” - -“You said I was ‘scarey’--and--and--things!” - -“But aren’t you? I thought so. May be I was mistookened. But Kinks -thinks it’s time to go. Are you ready? What’s your name?” - -“Beatrice. Ye--es. I--guess--so. Won’t he--run away--again?” - -“He’ll run like a coyote! But he won’t behave bad any more. Ready?” - -“Ye--es.” - -“Now, then! _Pronto_ [get on]!” Away dashed Kinks, bearing his double -burden, as if determined to make up lost time, or to show the racing -quality of his blood; but, swift as was his pace, he was no longer -wild, and seemed but another young thing, such as those who rode him, -overflowing with spirit and vitality. - -“Ah, how good it seems! A’most like Tito!” - -“Ye--es. I--I like it!” assented Beatrice, so exhilarated by the rapid -motion that she forgot her fear. - -“Which way now?”--as they came to the turn of the road. - -“Down there, through the iron gate.” - -“Is it his home,--and yours?” - -“Yes.” - -“Then I’ll give him his head;” and dropping the bridle-rein upon his -shoulders, Steenie folded her arms while Kinks trotted more and more -slowly over the gravel road, till he stopped, of his own accord, before -the block where he was accustomed to be mounted. - -Both children were speedily off upon the ground, and Steenie, feeling -more at home and happier than at any time since she had parted from -her four-footed friends at Santa Felisa, began examining the various -straps and buckles of the gray’s harness, with a professional air which -greatly impressed the watchful Beatrice. - -“Who saddled this poor fellow?” - -“I--I don’t know.” - -“You ought to know, then! See here! There’s a thorn in this surcingle. -That’s all how it happened!” - -“That--little thing? And that big horse?” - -The groom has ridden up by this time, and Steenie turned upon him -swiftly. “See here, man! I found this in the band!” - -“Well. What of it?” - -“That’s what made him act up.” - -“That is too small to have been felt.” - -“I think not. See?” The child struck the brier sharply into the flesh -of her own brown little hand, and a red flush followed the wound. “That -has hurt him ever since he went out. Bob says nothing’s so sensitive -as a horse; and then something frightened him; and then he--ran away. -So would I,--if anything kept doing this all the time!” And again she -attacked her own skin,--now so energetically that the blood oozed out; -at which she turned and clasped the soft nostrils of the thorough-bred -before her with a tender pitying touch, and laid her own bonny face -caressingly against the face of the beast, who stood in motionless -enjoyment of this new sympathy. - -Nobody knew that a fourth person had observed this scene till a grave -voice quietly asked: “Little girl, who are you?” - -Then the curly head was reluctantly lifted from its resting-place, -and a pair of radiant eyes were raised toward the porch where the -questioner stood. “I’m only Steenie Calthorp.” - -“Only--the most wonderful child I ever saw! Where did you come from?” - -“Santa Felisa, California.” - -“What are you doing here?” - -Memory returned to her. What, indeed, was she doing there, when she -had been told by her grandmother that she must be ready in just -half-an-hour to “go and buy some decent clothes!” - -“_Caramba!_ I forgot!” And away flashed a white frock and a streaming -mass of curly hair, without so much as a good-by to any of these new -acquaintances. - - - - -CHAPTER VII. - - -[Illustration: STEENIE AND HER GRANDMOTHER.] - -Steenie had little difficulty in retracing her way along the avenue as -far as that old street of the town on which her grandmother’s house -stood; but she stopped, confused. - -“It was a big white house with a lion on it.” Alas! they were all big -white houses in that locality, and more than one had a “lion on it.” - -“There is a white fence before it, and green blinds.” - -So were there everywhere,--for this staid, aristocratic, inland borough -was nothing if not correct. Years and years before, when it was young, -its then leader of society had builded him a “mansion,” standing so -many paces back from the street, of such a width and stature. He had -placed about the yard a protecting paling, white,--to match the house; -with its green blinds which did not match the grass, but stared at it -in a hardness of tone, so utterly green, that it made nature’s color -look yellow,--maybe from envy. - -The example set in that far-away time continued still. To the one big -square white house succeeded other big, square, white houses, as like -to the pattern as rule and measure could make them; to the ugly green -blinds other rows of ugly green blinds; while the original paling -stretched out far, far on either side. - -Thus the great High Street of Old Knollsboro began and grew; and now -was far too loyal to its past to alter its own cleanly and roomy -monotony for any modern freaks of architecture. - -It was on this thoroughfare that a strange little girl, who had never -been lost on the wide plains of Santa Felisa, now stood looking about -in awe-stricken perplexity. She began, also, to feel physically very -miserable. Clouds had obscured the sun, and the wind had risen chilly, -blowing through her light attire with a piercing breath new to her -experience, and most unpleasant. Her shoes were water-soaked, and her -feet stiff with the cold; and such a terrible forlornness suddenly -overcame her that she felt very much like crying. - -“But if I cry I can’t see anything, then!” said this practical small -creature, and forthwith restrained her tears. “Well, it must be further -’n this, anyhow; an’ if I go on, maybe I’ll see a Maltese cat. Mary -Jane says her cat is pure Malty; and so--Ho! There she goes!” - -Thinking wholly of the animal which was to be her guide, Steenie -pursued a fleeing object that she believed to be Mary Jane’s -possession; but she was disappointed at the very gateway of successful -capture, beneath which the cat darted and through which the child would -have followed but for the latch; about this her observant eye detected -a radical difference from that of Madam Calthorp’s. - -“Hm-m, Miss Cat! You’ve run away again, I s’pose. Mary Jane says you -are always running away an’ ‘pestering the life out of her.’ An’, -maybe, you’re like me,--don’t know where you do b’long. Never mind. I -guess you’ll find your way home again; so I’ll go on.” - -Steenie was so oddly and thinly clothed for that season and climate -that some curious eyes looked after her sturdy little figure, as she -passed swiftly up the street, darting questioning glances at every -residence; but nobody thought of offering guidance. For wasn’t Old -Knollsboro in morning attire? Besides, open curiosity concerning one’s -neighbors was a common thing, and belonged to the vulgar crowd which -did not inhabit High Street. So she made the full length of one side -the roadway and had crossed to return upon the other, when she spied in -the distance a bent, blue-coated old man, whom she recognized at once. - -“It’s Mr. Tubbs! It truly is! Hurrah!” she cried, with a delight quite -contrasting to the terror this same person had caused her earlier -in the day. Then she sped forward till she had overtaken and thrown -herself upon her victim’s shoulders, who rebounded from the shock of -the attack with a groan horrible to hear, but which no longer daunted -the glad child. “Oh, you dear Mr. Resolved! Here you were, looking for -me, and all the time I was--” - -“Wasn’t lookin’ fer ye ’t all! Oh, oh! Be ye born ter murder me -outright, er be ye not? Um--m! That’s what I’d like ter know.” - -“Murder you? Why, you must be funny! How, why should a little girl -murder anybody?” - -“My-soul-I-declare! But you seem boun’ ter! An’ in the name o’ common -sense, what be ye doin’ out here with no clothes on ter speak of? -Where’s yer bunnit er yer shawl?” - -Shawl! Steenie had never thought of it from the moment when she took it -off and laid it on the fence. The fence! What fence? Where? All up and -down those two long rows of palings which faded into an indistinct line -and seemed to melt together in the distance, the child’s eyes searched -critically. But there was nothing in sight to suggest the shawl, which -had been only loaned by Madam Calthorp, and Steenie’s fear took a new -direction. What if it were lost?--as she had been, and the Maltese cat. - -She had been trained to a very nice observance of “thine” and “mine;” -and even at Santa Felisa, where she was so universally loved and -indulged, she had never mislaid or used anything belonging to another -without permission. How dreadful to begin now with something owned by -that stern, beautiful grandmother whom she already loved so dearly, yet -who seemed too “intelligy” to return such a simple sentiment! - -“Which is my grandmother’s house, Mr. Resolved? Please, will you show -me?--even if you weren’t sent after me.” - -“Sent arter ye! Humph! Psst-t’ I’d like ter see myself bein’ sent arter -younguns, at my time o’ life!” - -“Where, please? Quick!” - -For answer the old man pushed his spectacles into their legitimate -place and looked at the questioner searchingly. “Well, I hate ter own -it, but I s’pose I’ll have ter. I ’lowed ter Mary Jane fust off, ’t ye -didn’t seem like common younguns; an’ then that fool kind o’ talk this -mornin’; an’ now, a losin’ of yerself in a plain straight road like -this. It’s a pity,--it’s a terr’ble pity.” - -“Of course it is. But don’t you see? I did it just because it _is_ so -plain. I was never outside my grandmother’s house before, only when we -came. And I was so tired I didn’t notice; an’ these rows and rows look -just like a flock of sheep, each more the same than the other; and if -you won’t tell me”--A fit of shivering cut short her remarks. - -“Gracious! You ain’t a ketchin’ cold, be ye? A’ready? This way, then, -suddent! Er there ye’ll be ter be nussed.” With which humble imitation -of his mistress’ sentiments, Mr. Tubbs faced about, and seizing -Steenie’s cold little hand, hurried back to their own domicile as fast -as age and lumbago would permit. - -“Now, look a here. Take a notice. Ye mayn’t be bright, but ye can l’arn -sunthin’, an’ I’m boun’ ter teach ye. That gate-latch has a round quirl -on the top. See? an’ there hain’t another gate-latch has a nothin’ -but a square quirl the hull endurin’ length o’ High Street. Do ye -understan’ what I’m a sayin’?” - -“Why, yes, certainly. Why shouldn’t I?” laughed Steenie, forgetting her -fear of her guide in gratitude for his “kindness” in returning her to -her friends, and wondering why he thought her so slow of comprehension. -But no sooner was the “round quirled” latch lifted than she darted past -him and in at the front door, which, for an unusual thing, stood wide -open. - -“Papa! Grandmother! Where are you? I’m so glad--I’m sorry--I lost it--I -was lost, too, and he’s--the loveliest great gray--Papa! Papa Calthorp!” - -Her father emerged from the library, looking very pale and careworn; -but she sprang into his arms with such exuberant delight that a smile -rose to his lips. Then he clasped her close,--closer than she had -ever known him to do, and his cheek felt the chill of hers. “Why, -sweetheart, how cold you are! Where have you been?” - -“Didn’t you hear, Papa, dear? I said I had been lost.” - -Very speedily thereafter Steenie found herself in bed. She didn’t quite -comprehend it, and it certainly was her first experience of going into -such retirement in the daytime; but one glance at the child’s wet feet -and shivering body had alarmed Madam greatly. - -“Right out of that warm climate into this, and clad as she is! This -way, Steenie, at once. Oh, your shoes! The tracks on the carpet!” - -“Here, darling, I’ll carry you;” and as directly as if his eyes could -see, Mr. Calthorp bore his little girl to her own room and himself -assisted in tucking her into the thick blankets, while Mary Jane fussed -about with hot bricks and soap-stones, and Madam Calthorp administered -a dose of sage-tea, whose aroma carried the father back to the days of -his own childhood. - -When the excitement had somewhat subsided, and Steenie had assured -them over and over that she was as “warm as a pepper-stew,” the -house-mistress sat down to listen to the tale which her grandchild had, -until then, vainly endeavored to tell. - -“First, I’m so sorry about your shawl. I took it off, ’cause it was so -warm; an’ I don’t know where the place was. The fence is just the same, -and--” - -“Never mind the shawl, Steenie; it is certain to be returned. Somebody -will find and recognize it; but what is that about a horse?” - -Holding fast to her father’s hand, Steenie gave a graphic description -of the runaway, and its result. When she had finished, Madam sat in a -silence which was plainly that of a shocked dismay. Finally she spoke. - -“This is even worse than I feared. No such accident must occur again. -Steenie, before another word is said, promise me that you will not go -into the street again without permission.” - -“No, no, Mother!” interposed Mr. Calthorp, earnestly. “Pardon my -disputing your authority, but that will not answer. Steenie has never -known restraint, and--but let us settle all this at some other time.” - -The lady sighed. She had her own ideas of how a little girl should be -brought up; but she felt her old hands inadequate to the task. She -had been so peaceful and free! Why had this trial been sent upon her? -Gravely she arose and left the room, and the relieved runaway went to -sleep to wake at the dinner hour with no worse feeling about her than -rebellion against being kept in bed when there was “nothing the matter -that ever was.” - -The immediate result of that morning’s adventure, so far as Steenie was -concerned, was a suitable wardrobe. A dressmaker took up her abode in -the west chamber, and there the restless child was imprisoned during a -fortnight of bright days, while birds sang invitations to her through -the windows, and the crocuses coaxed her with their shining faces to -“come out of doors and be glad!” - -But the only time she could command for that was after the crocuses and -the birds had gone to sleep, and the dressmaker had stopped work for -the day. - -“Why do I need so many things, dear grandmother? I’m sure they’re -pretty; but--” - -“Many, Steenie? I have never been an extravagant woman, and I certainly -shall not cultivate the habit now. But there must be two comfortable -school-frocks and three or four thinner ones; for I wish everything -to be accomplished at once that will be required during the summer. -There must be a simple dress for church and a richer one for visiting; -and--that is all. I’m sure you are the first little girl I ever knew -who didn’t like handsome clothes.” - -“Oh, you haven’t known even me--that way! For I like the frocks well -enough, but not the fixing of them. I stand up, ‘being fitted,’ till my -feet ache like anything; and Miss Sessions’ knuckles have punched me -all over black and blue. She doesn’t mean it, of course; but when she -puts in a pin she jams against me like I was her lap-board. And I wish -needles hadn’t eyes! ’Cause I ’most put mine out threading ’em.” - -“Why, Steenie! I thought you were a contented child! I have never heard -you complain of anything before.” - -“Haven’t you? Am I complaining? But--it’s--it’s--awfully, awfully -lonesome! I wish Papa would come back! I can’t sleep nights for -wondering about his poor eyes; and how long it will take the man to fix -’em.” - -“There, there! That will do. Don’t allow yourself to give way to habits -of despondency. Your father expected to be gone for two weeks, and he -has been for but for ten days. Maybe, if you go down into the kitchen, -you can see Mary Jane get supper.” - -“Yes’m,” said Steenie, choking back her emotion, and turning toward the -stairs, whence, seeing her grandmother stoop to pick up a thread from -the carpet, she ran to save her the trouble, and ended by throwing her -arms about the silk-clad shoulders and giving them a hearty squeeze. -“Oh! I do love you so, Grandmother!” - -“Why, Steenie? Because of the new frocks and pretty jackets?” - -“Grandmother! How funny! ’Cause of nothing at all only--’cause!” - -At which senseless reason the giver of it smiled merrily, and the -recipient smiled almost indulgently. - -“Well, run now! To-morrow you will be at school, and a new life will -begin for you.” - -“How? Am I not living now?” - -“In one way, yes. But there is a world of books to which your school -training will open the door. To me, that world is everything, or was. I -find--some other things--begin to interest me now.” - -“What things, Grandmother?” - -“No matter, little questioner; but things utterly different from any -printed page.” When Madam Calthorp said anything that Steenie did -not understand, the latter readily attributed it to the lady’s great -“intelligence,” which she had now learned to call by its right name. - -But, somehow, that little talk had set both old and young hearts to -lighter beating; and Steenie departed kitchen-ward, feeling that -“watching Mary Jane” was something interesting, even if it could not -quite equal a race on the sands with Tito. - -But of that beloved animal she dared not think often. It was apt to -make a troublesome “ache” come “in her throat,” and it “didn’t do any -good.” - -On the following morning, feeling very curious and happy, Steenie -entered the primary department of the great school for which Old -Knollsboro was famous. She did not know that girls “going on eleven” -usually disdained “primaries” as far beneath them, and she wouldn’t -have cared if she had; but, at the first recess, she was enlightened -on the subject by a young miss in braids, who remarked, patronizingly, -“Oh, you’re the new girl, aren’t you?” - -“I’m not new,--not very. I’m over ten.” - -“What? I don’t mean new that way. You just came.” - -“No. I have been here ever so long. Grandmother says ’bout three weeks.” - -“Don’t you feel mad to go with the little ones?” - -“No. I think I like little ones best. I never saw any ’bout my size -’cept Beatrice, and--and--you,” concluded Steenie, stammering in her -confusion over saying something that even to her untrained ears sounded -“not just right.” - -“My! Aren’t you polite! Well, what can you expect, my mother says, of a -girl that’s lived in California amongst cow-boys.” - -“Cow-boys are nicer--nicer than--nice! I love them, every one!” cried -this loyal Santa Felisan. - -“You’d ought to be ashamed!” - -“Why?” - -“Oh, because. Say, has Beatrice Courtenay been to see you?” - -“Yes. Once.” - -“You thought you did something smart, didn’t you? Ma said it was -disgraceful for a girl to get talked about like you have been.” - -Steenie stared in amazement, then bethought herself of her -grandmother’s parting advice: “Be pleasant to all, as is natural to -you; but do not have much to say to any girl until you have learned her -name. I wish you to make only the right friends, and I can tell you -about all the families--if not all the children--in town. It is wise to -select your playmates from households of gentlewomen. ‘Even a child is -known by the company he keeps.’” - -“Will you please tell me your name, miss girl?” - -“It’s Annie Gibson. My father keeps a candy store.” - -“Does he? Why does that bell ring? Isn’t the lady pretty who teaches -me? She thinks I read very well indeed, for--for--me.” - -“Pooh! You’d ought to hear me! I’m in the Fifth Reader. I speak pieces, -examination days. Your dress is awful nice and stylish. I bet you -didn’t have that made in your old California. I bet your grandmother -had to give it to you.” - -“Annie, you shouldn’t say ‘I bet.’ Grandmother c’rected me, myself, -for doing it. My grandmother is a very in-tell-i-gent woman, my father -says, an’ I’m to watch out for the way she talks; ’cause she never -says anything ’nelegant. But I think your frock is pretty, too. It’s -redder’n mine, an’ more ruffley, isn’t it? I think you are very nice to -look at. Your eyes are black, aren’t they? And your hair is nice an’ -straight. An’ what beautiful big feet you have, an’ hands! Why, your -hands are a’most twice as big’s mine!” - -Poor Annie Gibson didn’t know whether to laugh or “get mad;” but there -was no doubting the sincere and admiring curiosity with which Steenie -Calthorp examined this other specimen of girlhood; but the final tones -of the bell called both away toward the house. - -Which, however, Steenie did not enter. Her attention had suddenly been -attracted by a commotion in the street, and everything new appealed to -her curiosity. - -“My! I wonder what those boys are doing! What--What--What!” - -With a shriek of delight that penetrated the building she was -deserting, the child darted from the enclosure,--through the crowd of -grinning boys straight to the cause of all their mirth. “My Sutro! My -Sutro! My own, ownest Tito!” - -“_Caramba!_ My angel! Is it thou? At last--at last!” - - - - -CHAPTER VIII. - - -[Illustration: STEENIE AND TITO.] - -Sutro and Tito, indeed! - -The former in the full glory of his holiday Mexican costume, looking a -little the worse for a long journey; the latter in exuberant spirits -over his release from the car which he had occupied for nearly a week, -padded and luxurious though it had been. The extravagant caresses of -one old friend, and the pleading, loving neighings of the other, were -met by an ecstatic response, which told how greatly they had been -missed. - -“Oh! How--Why--I’m so glad I shall--cry!” - -“Santa Maria! We part no more, _mi niña_ [my little one].” - -“But how could you come? You darlings!” - -“How? Save on that horrible railway train, _de veras_, indeed! But thy -Tito suffered not at all, he. Bob and the boys sent him to thee, their -Little Un; for, in verity, he was of no use to the Lord of Plunkett, -no. Not a saddle nor a bridle would he endure, until to-day. And -so--goes thy Bob to the señor and says: ‘The Little Un’s horse travels -east to the Little Un, with old Sutro, who will not live at San’ -Felisa without his heart’s dearest.’ And--here we are. _Caramba!_ Thou -lookest fine, no? But--still--thou wilt return with Sutro to the old -_hacienda_, wilt thou not, _mañana_ [to-morrow, sometime]?” - -“The very first _mañana_ that ever I can! But, go away, you boys! What -do you want with us?” - -“A circus! A circus!” cried the gamins, delighted at seeing Steenie now -mounted behind the old Spaniard, whose striking apparel reminded them -of nothing but the fascinating entertainment just mentioned. - -“It’s that horse girl!” - -“It’s her that rode Beatrice Courtenay’s runaway!” - -“I’ll bet all my alleys she does b’long to a circus, an’ that’s another -of ’em!” - -“Say, Sissy, what show you skedaddle out of? Give us the tip!” - -“The tip, no? The whole of it, you miserables!” Suiting the action to -the word, Sutro leaned sidewise from the saddle, and laid about him -hastily with his short riding-whip. This had the effect of ridding them -from immediate persecution, and, taking advantage of this lull in the -attentions of the street boys, Steenie gave Tito his word of command, -and away they shot at a pace to distance all pursuers. - -Madam Calthorp looked up from her book as the clattering of horse-hoofs -fell on the gravel of the path which led to her disused stable, and -could scarcely believe her own eyes for the story they told her. - -She was still trembling from the shock of her surprise when Steenie -bounded into her presence, wild with excitement and radiantly -glad. “O, Grandmother--Grandmother! Who do you think has come? -Tito--Tito--Tito! My own Tito! And that blessed old Sutro, who is as -old as old, but didn’t mind anything but staying away from his _niña_! -Come--come--quick--and see them!” - -She could not stand still, not one instant; but around and around her -grandmother’s chair she danced, while that lady slowly rose, wondering -at herself for even this concession. - -“This way! This way! To the--I s’pose it’s the stable! And won’t Tito -be glad to get into a quiet stall once more? And the grass! Can he roll -on the cunning little lawn, Grandmother?” - -“Steenie, silence. Be still for one moment. What is all this? Who is -‘Tito,’ who ‘Sutro’? Why are you not at school?” - -“Why--why--I don’t know. I s’pose I forgot. Sutro--is Sutro. Don’t -you know I told you ’bout him? He’s my body-servant, and as old as -anything. But such a rider! There’s nobody in all San’ Felisa can -beat him, ’cept Kentucky Bob an’ some more. Bless his heart! Bob’s, I -mean. Bless everybody’s! For he’s come all these long three thousand -miles to bring me my pretty piebald Tito. The Plunketty Lord said he -should always be mine, case I ever went back; but those dear boys -wouldn’t wait for that--no! I s’pose they saw that Tito was breaking -his heart and s’posed I was mine; and so they paid all the money -for Tito’s ticket, and hired him a beautiful cushioned horse-box, -and sent Sutro to take care of him till he brought him safe to me. -And--and--he’s--they’re never going away any more till I go, too. Oh, -_hola_, _hola_! Aren’t you glad--glad--glad?” - -If she were glad she did not so express herself; nor did Madam -Calthorp’s countenance exhibit any emotion brighter than dismayed -astonishment as she followed this strange child out of the room and out -of the house, in order to be presented to two more intruders. - -“Sutro, Caballero Don Sutro Vives, this is my beautiful Madam -Grandmother. And Tito--my sweet!” - -“I have the honor to kiss thy feet, Señora,” said the old Spaniard, -bowing profoundly. - -For a moment Madam regarded him with admiring curiosity. As a “type” of -that race which she had read of in history, a race that was fast dying -out, he interested her, and for that reason she was glad to see him; -and the caballero, lifting his eyes from the ground, beheld only the -pleasure, and did not question its cause. “The Doña Steenie says truly, -Madam; the Señora is beautiful,--as the snows on the Sierras. May the -humblest of her slaves beg her gracious favor?” - -Such language was new to Old Knollsboro, though to Steenie’s ears it -was as familiar and as meaningless as the ordinary salutations of the -day to other folk; and she interrupted any reply which Madam might have -made by seizing that lady’s hand and placing it on Tito’s flowing mane. -“Isn’t it fine and white,--whiter and softer than the freshest fleece -ever sheared? And see the pretty, pretty markings all over his body! -Lift your foot, my Tito. One--two--three--four! One--two--three--four! -Isn’t that a fine action? And his haunches! See how strong and shapely. -And his lovely tail, set straight and free! And his darling neck! Oh, -my Tito, I love you! I love you!” - -Madam Calthorp was speechless. Not only was she amazed, but she was -touched. She had never seen anything like this. It was as if a twin -had found its mate; and the exchange of sentiment between the two -young creatures was too evident for even her untrained eyes to ignore. -Steenie was not one whit more glad than Tito; nor did she express her -emotion more clearly. The animal’s velvet nostrils moved everywhere -about the curly head and bobbing shoulders of his recovered mistress, -with an exquisite gentleness of touch she could not have believed -possible in “only a horse.” There was adoring delight in the great -brown eyes which followed Steenie’s every motion, and seemed blind to -all else; and when Sutro had unfastened the stable door, the loving -pair went joyfully away together, her arm about his neck, bent proudly -to receive it. - -“My-soul-I-declare!” - -This ejaculation, in the harshest utterance of Mr. Resolved Tubbs, -broke in upon this pretty scene with the force of an explosion. It -cleared the air of undue sentiment, and recalled Madam Calthorp to -a sense of her position and its consequences. Here she had not only -received these unwelcome intruders, but allowed them to believe that -she was glad to do so! She must right the mistake at once. - -“Ahem, Mr. Sutro, I mean Vives, I think it would be better to take that -animal directly to the livery stable. I do not keep a horse, and should -not be willing to let Steenie. As for yourself, while your devotion is -touching, I think you can find more comfortable quarters at the village -than I can give you. This man--Tubbs, will you show this old gentleman -the way to the American House?” - -Considering the lumbago, Mr. Tubbs stepped forward with amazing -alacrity. He was quite willing to prevent his small “world” being -“turned upside down” by this fresh consignment from the far west. But -his obliging readiness fell powerless before the caballero’s obtuse -serenity. - -“Ten thousand pardons, most charming Señora, but whatever will serve my -hostess serves me. Old Sutro is not particular.” - -“But--gracious!” retorted Resolved, and began an explanation which was -cut short by Steenie’s reappearance with the request: “Please get me -some alfalfa, or oats, or something for my Tito’s dinner; will you, Mr. -Tubbs?” - -“Steenie, there is nothing for a horse to eat here. I have not kept one -in many years. The last one was your father’s, before he left home. -This animal must be taken elsewhere for the present.” - -“Grandmother! My Tito? After so long, long a journey? Oh, no, no, no!” - -“But, my child, be reasonable. The stable is--” - -“’Xcuse my interrupting, but it’s just as nice as nice. They’s a lovely -box-stall, only wants taking those old rubbishy things out of it; an’ -places for everything. We can go to the shop where you buy things for -horses, and buy him all he needs. Same’s you bought my clothes. An’ -then such fun! Won’t Papa be glad! And Sutro--forgive me not thinking -’bout you, too. Are you hungry, dear Sutro? You’re ’most always, don’t -you know?” - -“Ah, Señorita! The food on the way was not of Ellen’s sort. In verity, -I would like a dish of--” - -“A’most anything, no? Grandmother, may Mary Jane cook Sutro some -dinner?” - -“Hm. It must be near the dinner-hour for all of us; and you may -invite your old friend for this one meal.” The significance of the -lady’s tone was not lost upon her ancient servitor, Resolved, but it -was--wholly--upon the happy unconsciousness of these two reunited -comrades, whom Madam Calthorp watched with growing interest; even -herself forgetting, as Steenie had utterly forgotten, that there was -such a thing as school and its duties. - -“She is a different creature! Vivacious, sparkling, charming. And all -for that queer old man and queerer horse! Is it as my son has thought -and said,--that the key to the child’s nature is love,--overflowing -love? Well, there is, certainly, no mistaking the love between those -two nor the want of it between these--two!” considered the unwilling -hostess, turning her eyes upon the two old men, as Sutro and Resolved -glared with instant and mutual dislike upon each other. - -“Can it be possible that Tubbs is actually growing fond of the child, -and is jealous?” - -It seemed so, strange as it was; for when dinner was served, and Sutro, -naturally, took his place behind Steenie’s chair, the other ancient -worthy remarked with considerable sharpness: “Ye kin set down, can’t -ye?” and pointedly pushed a chair back to designate where. - -“Ten thousand thanks, my friend; when the Señorita has finished,” -answered Sutro, suavely. - -“Sin-your-eet-her, hey? What heathen gibberish is that, I’d like ter -know? Thar’s yer place, an ’thar ye kin set er go ’ithout,--uther one,” -retorted Tubbs, forgetting in his aversion to this “furriner” the -respect due to the occasion. - -“_Luego_ [presently].” With the sweetest of smiles, old Vives, who had -been watching Resolved’s manner of service, deftly turned his little -lady’s plate, exactly as the other had done Madam Calthorp’s. - -When Mr. Tubbs passed to his mistress the food which Mary Jane had -carved, the stranger anticipated a similar attention to Steenie. So -with everything; till even the house-mistress’s dignity yielded to a -smile, and the little girl laughed outright. - -“Why, you two funny men! What makes you go snap--snap--with things, -so? And poor Mr. Resolved, if it’s your lumbago worse, just let -Sutro take care of Grandmother, too. My Sutro can do everything -beau-u-tifully; can’t you, dear?” - -“_Si?_ It is music thou speakest, _carita_.” - -“T-wu-ho!” With this indescribable snort Mr. Tubbs retreated to the -kitchen and threw himself down recklessly in Mary Ann’s own rocker. But -the rocker was cushioned, and Resolved was tired; and the combination -revealed the fact that even an enemy has his uses. “My-soul-I-declare! -If he wants ter trot round waitin’ on younguns, let him trot! Ain’t no -law ag’in it, as I know of.” - -“Ner ag’in your behavin’ like a great, cross youngun yerself, if I do -say so!” said Mary Jane, dishing apple-fritters with a skilful hand. - -“Ain’t cross. An’ if I be, ain’t it enough ter make a critter a’most -sw’ar? Here was we livin’ like pigs in clover; and in come Mr. Daniel -an’ the gal. Now, ’s if that wa’n’t upsettin’ enough--piles in a -heathen Mexican an’ a calico horse ter boot! I do say, an’ I mean it, -folks does sometimes get more o’ trouble ’n they desarve in this world.” - -“Calico horses is lucky. Hain’t you never heerd that? I always wish -when I see one, an’ that ain’t often. An’, though it does make a pile -o’ work, I--no, sir!--I ain’t a mite sorry ’t Mr. Dan’l an’ Steenie -come!” - -“Ma-ry-Ja-ne!” Tubbs half rose from his chair, in astonishment at his -sister’s words. “An’ you--a perfessor!” - -“Perfessor from my youth up,” assented the spinster, piously. “That’s -why it’s borne in on me ter witness fer the truth. I hated it--Here! -you Mr. Sutry! Jest fetch all them things out, fust. Don’t leave -anything on the table, savin’ the bread an’ the salt. And--there ye be! -Handy as a womern, I do declare!--Yes, sir, I hated it wuss ’n pisen. -So ’t I couldn’t sleep, worryin’ ’bout the victuals ter cook an’ the -dishes ter wash, an’ the hull job. An’ I knowed Madam hated it even -wusser. But now--mebbe it’s grace ’at’s ’gin me, an’ mebbe it’s only -natur’; but that little creetur has ’bout changed the hull outlook o’ -things. She jest acted as if I loved her the terr’blest’t ever was, -an’ fust I knowed--I did! Thar wasn’t no holdin’ out ag’in them big -innercent eyes o’ her’n, a smilin’ so right inter a body till a body -can’t help smilin’ back. So--now I’ve told it out, an’ I feel better. -You b’lieve my words, brother Resolved, an’ mark ’em well: Thar’s a -blessin’ come with poor Mr. Dan’l’s comin’, an’ it’s took visible shape -in that thar child!” - -“Well--I swan!” - -“Hm-m. Ye needn’t swan’ nothin’. Madam’s through. Come along an’ eat -yer dinner. An’ remember ter let yer candle burn afore that poor, -yaller-skinned, heathen stranger, who, if he hain’t got the grace o’ -perfessorship has got it o’ perliteness.” - -Thus adjured, “professor” Tubbs arose and followed Mary Jane into -the dining-room, where Sutro had already seated himself in the -chair designated by his new _confrère_, and was smiling blandly -kitchen-wards, when that person’s bent figure darkened the doorway. -But if there was any spiritual light-shining or candle-burning, it was -not of a sort to impress the Catholic Christian with the beauty of the -Puritan creed. - -Alas! It was war from the beginning with these two; and, though both -were inwardly conscious of their own blame in the matter, no amount of -self-abusive prayers on one side or muttered Ave Marias on the other -could ever change the course of nature. - -“Water won’t run up-hill; an’ folks ’at ’s born contrary stays -contrary. All you kin expect is ter keep the peace,” said the shrewd -Mary Jane, and determined to make a bridge of her own patience which -should serve both sides of the hostile camp. - -After dinner the question of Tito again arose; and, pending her son’s -return, Madam compromised her own judgment and sent off an order for -food and bedding sufficient for a few days’ need. “I’m growing very -weak and indulgent,” she said, apologetically, to Mary Jane. “But -this arrival was so unexpected, it may be as well to await Daniel’s -decision.” - -“Yes’m. An’ I do ’low you won’t be sorry. She don’t ask ner tease fer -nothin’; hain’t never sence she come. ’Bout them books, even; I’ve -seen her a marchin’ back an’ forth, back an’ forth, a lookin’ through -the glass at ’em that longin’ ’at I’ve be’n a’most a mind ter open the -bookcases an’ show ’em to her. But, o’ course, I didn’t; an’ she didn’t -say ary word, ner even look mad, only kinder hungry-like. ’Twould be a -pity not ter let her have her pony, seems ter me. Mr. Sutry, he says -she kin beat any circuser ’tever was. She’s rid’ ever sence she was a -baby; an’ them men out ter Californy--‘boys,’ she calls ’em--’d a never -let her come east in the world if it hadn’t a be’n fer her pa’s eyes. -When’s he comin’ home, Ma’am?” - -“Soon, I hope. And that he will be reassured concerning his dreaded -blindness. It cannot be that a Calthorp--such a strong, healthy, -handsome man he is, Mary Jane--should suffer such a physical blemish!” - -In that sentence spoke one of Madam Calthorp’s strongest prejudices. -Against imperfection of any sort her proud heart rebelled. Her own -physique was faultless. She wore her years and her white hairs as -royally as a queen her ermine mantle. She had always prayed that she -might die thus, in her full vigor, before any mortal weakness touched -her; and her feeling of this sort extended to all belonging to her. If -her son died, she would mourn him; but if he lived, a helpless wreck, -she dared not contemplate the prospect. - -“No, it don’t ’pear so; but the ‘don’t ’pear so-s’ are gen’ally what -happens; an’ though I hate ter say it, I think you’d oughter know that -Mr. Dan’l went away a’most convicted in his own mind ’at he wouldn’t -never see no more o’ this mortal speer ’an he saw then.” - -“Mary Jane! But you are not always a true prophet.” - -“An’ I hope, with all that’s in me, ’at I ain’t now!” - -But--she was. An attendant brought Daniel Calthorp home that night; and -the first glance which his mother cast upon his face disclosed that his -last hope of restored sight had gone out from it. - - - - -CHAPTER IX. - - -[Illustration: TITO.] - -There was no evading the fact that a terrible misfortune had fallen -upon the Calthorp household; and, for a time, this great sorrow -excluded every other thought. - -But they were all brave-hearted, having that one quality in common; and -so, even while suffering most acutely, Madam found that the feeling she -had experienced in regard to her son’s blindness faded in the light of -the great pity which now filled her soul. She had feared that she could -never bear to look upon him and witness his helplessness; but, instead -of this being the case, she found herself watching him in silent -admiration for the fortitude he displayed, and growing even prouder -than before. - -“Well. Blind or seeing, he is still--a man! Able to support his own -courage, and that of those who lean upon him! And how beautiful is -Steenie’s tenderness! She seems to understand that he wishes to do -everything for himself which he can do; but her own bright eyes watch -constantly to aid him in those he cannot.” - -Mary Jane, observing her mistress’s face, and following the direction -of her eyes, smiled, well pleased. Then she stole away to remark to -Resolved: “You said we might ’bout as well gin up, when Mr. Dan’l come -home that night an’ laid his goggles off, ’cause they wasn’t no more -use a pertectin’ stun blindness no longer; but--they’s some kinds o’ -onseeingness wuss’n ever ailded mortal eyes. An’ that’s sperritooal. -Thar was Madam, a nussin’ up wrath ag’in the day o’ jedgment, jest -’cause her only had married somebody ’t she hadn’t picked out fer him; -an’ him a cl’arin’ out ter Californy with his wife, an’ a buryin’ her -thar; an’ a comin’ back home this way he is. But I tell ye, brother -Resolved, it was the plain doin’s of the Lord, er my name ain’t Tubbs!” - -“Well, mebbe. I mean--o’ course. I ain’t a goin’ back on my perfession; -but some folks has got a terr’ble gift o’ makin’ sunthin’ out -o’ nothin’. Didn’t uset ter be yer way ter call bad good; but, -my-soul-I-declare! Ain’t no makin’ ye out, now-a-days, ye’ve growed -that weak-minded an’ soft-spoke. Howsomever, one thing ye can’t turn -ner twist inter no great hilarity: an’ that’s that pesky Mexicer.” - -“I should like ter know why not? Ain’t he jest like a shadder ter Mr. -Dan’l? If that poor deluded popist critter ain’t ’arnin’ his board an’ -keep, I know some other folks ’at ain’t wuth their salt.” - -“Hm-m. From the soond o’ that, I conclude ’at thar’s _some_--o’ the -’riginal Mary Jane left, arter all!” retorted the other, and doddered -away. - -It had seemed providential, indeed, that Sutro Vives--old fellow though -he was--had come to them when he did. With the profound love which he -had always felt for little Steenie, he now turned to Steenie’s father; -and his wonderful vitality enabled him to discharge with perfect ease -tasks which would have fallen very heavily upon poor Resolved Tubbs. - -Another two weeks had passed; and they had all, in a measure, become -accustomed to Mr. Calthorp’s affliction, and to the coming of the “four -Westerners,”--as Mary Jane called the three human visitors and the -equine one,--when Steenie came home from school a picture of childish -distress. - -“I can’t--can’t--can’t--go to that horrid school! Never no more, -never!” with which exclamation she burrowed into the nest her father’s -arms made for her, and hid her tearful face on his breast. - -He waited until her sobs had subsided, and then inquired: “Why not, -darling?” - -“Because--oh, ’cause--I hate it! Maybe that’s bad, but I do. The -children go ‘buz-z, buz-z’ over their books; and it’s hot; and I can’t -breathe, a’most; and, oh, Papa, I want to go home!” - -“My little one, I shall have to forbid your ‘boys’ writing to you, if -their letters make you homesick.” - -“It isn’t that. It isn’t, really, truly. But--am I a ‘runaway -circuser,’ Papa, dear?” - -“Why, no. Certainly not. Why should you need contradiction of such a -silly charge?” - -“’Cause that’s what they all call me--’most every one. An’ they say: -‘Why won’t you give us a ride on your old Spot-back, Californy!’ And: -‘She’s the girl ’at ’s only in the Primary! ’Cause she’s brought up in -a stable;’ an’ such heaps o’ mean things that I feel--I feel’s if I -should suff’cate. Need I go, Papa, dearest?” - -“I cannot tell yet. Let us talk it over with Grandmother. Rather, I -will do that, and you do what is far more to your liking and better -for you,--wash away your tears, find Sutro, and tell him he may go for -a horse at the livery-stable; then jump on Tito’s back and ride your -troubles away.” - -When obedience is happiness, it is always prompt; but even happiness -has its drawbacks. It was this very riding on the piebald horse which -had excited the envy and malice of a few of Old Knollsboro small folks. -The majority of Steenie’s school-fellows were full of an unexpressed -admiration for her wonderful horsemanship as exhibited in the--to her -quiet--rides through the village streets; but she was not the first -person who has forgotten the flavor of the grapes in the sting of the -wasp hidden among them,--although, heretofore, her sunny nature had -risen above her annoyances with its own gay rebound. - -Now, when she had ridden out of the yard, and the merry tones of her -farewell had satisfied her father’s ear that all was well for the -present, he went “to talk it over,” as he had promised, with the -mother, whom he now consulted in all things. - -“Well, Daniel, this is very strange! It seems like a Providence. I have -observed Steenie closely; and I am sorry to say that the school plan -has not worked as successfully as I had hoped. She doesn’t know what is -the matter; but I do. It is the unwonted confinement. She asked Mary -Jane what a prison was like; and when it was described, said: ‘Oh, -I thought, maybe, it was like our school-house.’ It is really very -opportune.” - -“But what, Mother? I do not understand.” - -“This morning’s call from Mrs. Courtenay. She says the Judge was so -pleased with Steenie, and that Beatrice talks so much about her, they -beg me to allow our little girl to go to Rookwood every day and share -their child’s instruction and amusement. That two such lonely only -children can do each other a deal of good. What do you say?” - -“Yes, with all my heart. If you approve.” - -“It does seem an admirable arrangement. The Judge has always -expressed his deep obligation to your father for assistance when his -own prospects were poor; and I can understand a proud man’s desire -to render some recognition of this ‘claim,’--though such, I am -sure, I have never felt it. Steenie will have only the most helpful -surroundings at Rookwood; and she will be fully appreciated. I am -glad, very glad.” - -“Why, Mother! Your voice sounds as if you--actually--loved my little -one.” - -“I do, my son.” - -“And have you quite forgiven her likeness to her mother?” - -There was a moment’s pause. Then Daniel Calthorp felt his mother’s kiss -upon his cheek, and, in that rare caress, died from both hearts all -bitter memories. - -Mary Jane witnessed this little incident through a crack in the door. -Alas, Mary Jane was a “mortal woman!” Then she stole away with misty -eyes,--misty, perhaps, from the strain of peeping,--murmuring piously: -“And a little child shall lead ’em.” - -But her piety did not prevent her being the first to meet Steenie on -her return from the ride, and imparting the intelligence which was the -result of Mrs. Courtenay’s visit, instead of leaving that pleasant -business to those whose own it really was. - -“You ain’t never a goin’ back to no more prisony-school, at all, -Steenie Calthorp!” - -“Why--not? Will Papa let me stay home every day?” - -“No. But trot along an’ hear. I ain’t a goin’ ter take the good news -out o’ nobody’s mouth, I guess!” - -For once, neglecting to care for her play-fellow, Tito, Steenie bounded -in-doors, eager to have Mary Jane’s statement confirmed; which being -done, her pleasure knew no limits. - -“Why, Papa Calthorp! It’ll be a’most the same as San’ Felisa! They’s a -great big house, forty times bigger’n this, an’ a great big grass all -round it; an’ trees, an’ flower-beds, an’ hammocks, an’--an’--things! -And Sutro must go, too; an’ I’ll ride Tito. An’ sometimes, maybe, -the Judge’ll let me go into the fields where the horses are. I’ve -seen them, dozens of them--beauties--corralled, I mean paddocked, in -cute little places with green fences around them, an’ a reg’lar shed -for them to go under when it rains. Just like some o’ the girls play -‘house’ at recess. Oh, do you s’pose he will?” - -“I do not doubt it. Especially as he loves horses almost as well as -you, and sympathy of tastes makes ready friendships. I foresee a very -happy road to learning for you, my Steenie.” - -With this assurance in her ears, the child went gayly away on Tito’s -back toward Rookwood, with Sutro walking beside her at a pace which -Resolved Tubbs could never have equalled, even in his youth. - -“Oh, Steenie, how glad I am!” cried Beatrice, for welcome. “Mama says -we are to have our lessons out of doors; ’cause it’s good for me, an’ -what you’re used to, as well.” - -“Only I never had lessons at all, till I came to Old Knollsboro! But -just learned to read an’ write a little. An’ do you think your father -will ever let me go to see his horses?” - -“I b’lieve you care more for them than for anything! You funny girl!” -answered Beatrice, reprovingly. “You’re just the same as he is; an’ -Mama says horses are to my father what play-hour is to school-boys. I -don’t know ’xactly what she means--but--he loves them, anyway.” - -“Course he does. He couldn’t help it, could he?” - -“Mama can help it. She says she ’xpects some of us’ll get killed; -’specially with Diablo, that ’xpensive colt. He isn’t anything--yet; -never had anything on him, even a halter; but Papa says, ‘he must be -broken, if he scours the country to find somebody brave enough to do -it!’” - -“Diablo? Oh, he’s the one ’at ’most killed the groom, isn’t he?” - -“Yes. An’ he’s kicked a whole lot of folks. He’s out in his paddock -all alone; and the men just give him food and water, an’ let him stay -there. Mama says that he ought to be shot, and then he couldn’t hurt -anybody else.” - -“Why! How dreadful!” - -“What? To hurt folks?” - -“To shoot a beautiful fellow like Diablo. I’ve looked at him over the -fence, when I’ve been riding with Sutro; and he is the finest horse in -Old Knollsboro.” - -“How do you know that?” - -“Well, he’s the finest one I’ve seen here, yet. He has better points, -even, than Gray Monarch, Kentucky Bob’s thoroughbred.” - -“My! That’s what Papa calls him: thoroughbred; an’ says when he’s -trained he’ll be su-perb. But I’d like to know who’ll do it. Say. Is -that old man coming to school too? Who is he? Isn’t he queer? He’s as -wizzly-up as can be; but he makes me think of grasshoppers, he’s so -awful jumpy an’ quick.” - -Steenie laughed. “He’s my body-servant, he says; but he’s a real -’ristocratic. He’s a Californian, like they used to be, and a -caballero. But after my mother died, he gave up everything but taking -care of me. He’s a perfect darling.” - -“Is he?” asked Beatrice, doubtfully. “He doesn’t look very--very -pretty; but, I mean he’s beautiful, of course, only--here’s Ma’amselle! -Now for b-a-ba k-e-r-ker, baker; p-a-pa pay-e-r, I mean p-e-r-per. Do -you like to spell?” - -“No. It makes me awful dizzy.” - -“Me, too. But ’rithmetic’s more worser. Never mind. The quicker we get -done, the quicker recess’ll come. I think recess is the nicest part of -studying, don’t you?” - -“Yes,” answered Steenie, with conviction. “Why, look there! -There’s my Sutro talking to your father! And they’re walking away -toward--oh!--do--you b’lieve they’ll go to the horse fields without us?” - -“I s’pose they will.” - -“Oh, dear!” - -At which tone of regret, Beatrice said, kindly, “You’re the queerest -girl! But I’ll ask Papa to let us go, recess-time. Papa! Papa!” - -The Judge turned about and waited while the children ran up to him. -“Well, little folks! What now? How could you tear yourselves away from -your dear books? Eh?” - -“Now, Papa, please don’t tease! I’m sure you wouldn’t like to have a -whole line of hard, two-syllabled words to learn, and rows and rows of -dazzly figures to add up, would you?” - -“I certainly should not; on such a morning as this, too. But if I were -a little girl, two little girls, I’d go at those words and figures -‘slap bang!’ And I’d get them all tucked away inside of my cranium, so -tight and sure that Ma’amselle would be obliged to say: ‘Really, young -ladies, _tres bien_! and I will compensate you for your so hard labor, -and give you leave at eleven of the clock, precisely, to go to the -library of the father and look in.’” - -“And, what then? What then, Papa?” - -“Maybe, peanuts; maybe, horses. Different tastes need different -rewards.” - -To Steenie this was not as intelligible as to Beatrice, who readily -translated for her new friend’s benefit Judge Courtenay’s meaning, -which was: that he evidently wished to be let alone then; but that if -they were studious they might leave off lessons at eleven o’clock, and -come to the library, when he would take them to see the horses. “If -anybody cares about those old things!” - -Steenie cared so very much that she infected Beatrice with her own -feeling; and her few weeks at a “really school” had been of such use -to her, that once her books were opened, she allowed herself no respite -till she had conquered the tasks set before her. - -Which good example was, also, infectious to the untrained Beatrice, who -surprised and pleased Ma’amselle by her sudden attention to duty. - -It is true that bright glances were occasionally darted back and forth, -and signs exchanged to mark the progress of learning on either side; -but, in spite of this, when eleven o’clock came they not only had done -their work with satisfaction to their teacher, but with real pleasure -to themselves,--a cause of considerable astonishment, also. - -“Now, for Papa and fun! My father’s a awful jolly man. You can’t ’most -gen’ally tell if he’s teasing or earnest. But--he’s nice.” - -“So’s mine. I guess fathers are always nice, aren’t they?” - -“No, not always. I know a father ’at whips his girl. With a whip, like -you do horses,” asserted Beatrice, gravely. - -“I never--whip horses’ Never! I wouldn’t be so cruel!” - -“My--sake! Why, are you ‘mad?’ Why shouldn’t you whip ’em? Everybody -does.” - -“They don’t at Santa Felisa. I’ve seen folks do it here, though; till -I’ve had to run away an’ cry. I think it’s puf-fect-ly dreadful!” - -“Why, Steenie Calthorp! You are the veriest oddest one! My Papa’ll -laugh at you. Pshaw! He whips horses himself; an’ he’s a Judge,--a -Judge-of-the-Supreme-Court! If you know what that is.” - -“I don’t. And I don’t care if he is, he oughtn’t to. Bob says so, an’ -Bob knows. He says it’s ruiny to any poor thing to do it. Once he -caught a vaquero doing it to one of the Plunketty man’s ploughers; and -he just snatched the rawhide out of the fellow’s hand, and gave it -to the fellow himself! Just as he was hurting the horse. I tell you, -wasn’t he mad? And didn’t he jump around lively?” - -“I should s’pose he did.” - -“And Bob says: ‘Now you know how ’tis yourself!’ and that vaquero could -be trusted anywhere after that. Only once he tried to shoot Bob; so Bob -had to lick him again, an’--that settled it.” - -“I should s’pose it did!” quoted an amused voice, and Judge Courtenay’s -hand rested lightly on Steenie’s curly head. “You see I was tired -waiting for eleven o’clock, because that old señor of yours has -promised me a treat, too; so I came out to meet you on the path from -your summer-house school-room.” - -“How nice! What is it, Papa?” - -“This little girl is to give it to me.” - -“I? Why, what can a little girl like me do for a big man like you?” -asked Steenie, in eager wonder. - -“Show me how Kentucky Bob tackles an unbroken colt.” - -An instant’s critical scrutiny of the genial face before her convinced -Steenie that the words were “earnest,” not “fun;” still--she could -hardly believe her own vision. “Do you really, truly mean it?” - -“I really, truly do. If you are not afraid.” - -“Afraid? My! I couldn’t be afraid of a horse, could I? I love them so; -and my father says that they know it, ’stinctively.” - -“Instinctively. Well--the old caballero’s stories seem almost -incredible; but now is your chance to prove them true,” responded -Diablo’s owner, studying, in his turn, very critically the animated -face of the little girl beside him. He did not at all believe any of -the “yarns” which Sutro had “spun” to him during their ramble over the -horse-farm; but he had immensely enjoyed the boastful eloquence of one -whom he considered a “crack-brained old man;” and he did not seriously -intend allowing Steenie to approach nearer than a safe distance of the -beautiful colt with the unsubdued will. But he thought it would give -her a pleasure to watch Diablo over the paling; and he anticipated -great amusement, also, in watching Vives “back down” when once brought -face to face with fact,--fact in the shape of a “vicious” four-year-old -whom the best horse-trainers had, as yet, been unable to reduce to -submission. - -But he hadn’t counted at all upon the perfect honesty and credulity of -“the Little Lady of the Horse,” nor her own proud acceptance of the -title which her adoring Santa Felisans had given their “Little Un;” -else what followed then would never have happened. - -As they came to the paddock, and looked over the paling, Diablo’s owner -pointed him out as: “The handsome brute! There he is. As powerful and -wicked as his name denotes. Locked up in those shapely limbs is a mint -of money,--that nobody dares conquer for me. A fine animal, eh?” - -“He’s perfect! Oh, you beauty, you darling!” - -Diablo stood at the extreme end of his paddock, head up, eyes flashing, -every nerve quivering at sound of human voices. Of late, many attempts -had been made to “break him;” each resulting in fresh torment to -himself, and failure to his would-be conquerors. Already he had learned -to distrust humanity, and to watch against its assaults. - -“Your lariat, Sutro,” whispered Steenie, eagerly. And from his -capacious pocket the caballero drew a fine silken cord which he always -carried, and silently gave it to her. - -The Judge’s attention had been diverted, for an instant, but was -recalled by a swish of flying draperies, and Beatrice’s low cry: -“My--sake!” - -Steenie had leaped over the fence, and was swiftly proceeding down the -field, with the springing step of one who merrily goes to meet a friend. - -“Merciful powers! Steen--” - -But Sutro’s hand was firmly placed over Judge Courtenay’s lips. “Ten -thousand pardons! Speak not--move not. Her safety and success depend on -silence,” whispered the caballero, impressively. - -“Her success!” Strong man though he was, Diablo’s owner turned faint, -and he shut his eyes in horror at this terrible result of his own idle -jesting. - - - - -CHAPTER X. - - -[Illustration: STEENIE, DIABLO, AND THE JUDGE.] - -However, the Judge quickly aroused from the inaction his terror had -caused, and, leaping over the paling, would have followed this childish -horse “breaker,” had he been allowed. But Sutro sprang forward almost -as instantly, leaned over the rails, and, with all the force of his -iron muscles, clasped his long arms around the other’s shoulders. - -“_Caramba!_ I tell thee--no! Thou shalt not! Wouldst see her killed -before thy very eyes?” - -In a whisper, equally hoarse, the pinioned victim of the Spaniard’s -embrace retorted: “No! For that reason--” - -“Move not, hand nor foot! Watch. She is safe. I swear it. She has a -magic. I know not--she calls it love.” - -Magic! It seemed so. Half way down the field Steenie slackened her -pace, began to sing softly, bits and snatches of melodies ended almost -in the same breath, and to stop and pluck at the buttercup and clover -blooms, here or there. She had the lariat loosely about her wrist; but -she paid no attention to Diablo, who stood, like a beautiful statue, -regarding the intrusion. - -By slow degrees she made her way to a low-branched oak-tree standing at -one side the paddock, not far from the colt’s own position, and, with -the gentlest of motions, raised herself to its broad limb. - -Diablo was now obliged to turn his head in order to watch her, but -otherwise he did not stir; and, observing this, Judge Courtenay’s heart -beat a trifle more naturally. - -“Loose your arms, señor; I shall not startle her now.” - -“Ah! _Si?_ Thou beholdest then that we spoke the truth? In one -half-hour my Little Un will come to thee leading the beast by the -forelock. Thou wilt see.” - -“Hang the beast! That she comes out alive--unhurt--is all I care!” - -“In verity she will do that. She will do a miracle. Thou shalt see.” - -“Is it possible that you are not afraid? I thought you called her your -‘heart’s dearest’!” - -“_En verdad._ She is the whole world to Sutro Vives. But I am not -afraid, I. She is all love, all innocence, all fearlessness. She would -win over the Evil One himself, I believe, if she could meet him!” - -“She certainly has a chance now to try!” groaned Diablo’s owner, too -anxious to be greatly amused by Sutro’s extravagance of language, and -holding himself ready to rush forward to the child’s aid at the first -ugly movement on the animal’s part. - -Timid Beatrice stood upon the lower round of the fence, scarcely -breathing in the fascination of her fear; yet it was her eyes which -interpreted the first overture between those two out there in the -paddock. “See! She’s laid her head down on the branch an’ pertends -she’s going to sleep; and I can hear her--I surely can--singing soft, -soft, kind of loving-y like. And now--he’s moving--but slow--as -anything.” - -“Yes. I am watching.” Neither voice raised above a whisper. - -“But--look now! He’s a walking up to her; curious like, isn’t he? -He’s--see him!” - -Intently they gazed upon the pantomime. Steenie lay on her leafy -perch, one little foot dangling and swinging lazily back and forth, her -blue eyes turned caressingly, almost imploringly, upon Diablo, as if -beseeching him to come to her. - -Her own description, afterward, was: “I just thought _at_ him as hard -as ever I could. I wouldn’t think of anything else, only that I did -love him, and was sorry he didn’t make friends with his wanted-to-be -friends, and I wanted he should know ’bout it. And by-and-by, I s’pose -my thought hit his somewhere,--as Bob believes,--and then--it was -done. He just came closer an’ closer; an’ by-an’-by he stretched out -his pretty nose and smelled of my foot. Then he waited a minute, an’ I -didn’t even wink, but just kept on saying, inside of me: ‘Don’t you see -I love you? Don’t you know I love you?’” - -“Pretty soon he sniffed at my hand in my lap; and then he ate -the clover blossoms; an’ then he let me move one finger a little -bit--though he jumped at that. Afterwards, I could move my whole hand, -and smooth his face, that was soft as satin. When I could coax his -head down to mine, so I could talk into his ears, I had no more to -do. I remembered everything Bob taught me; and when I knew he was all -right, and wasn’t afraid any more, I let him smell of the lariat, and -fuss with it ’s long as he liked. Then I made a slip-halter,--Bob’s -way,--an’ that’s all.” - -That was all, perhaps, but it was marvellous in Judge Courtenay’s eyes; -while those of old Sutro shone with fond pride. - -“I told thee so, señor! See--she is leading him as gentle as a lamb. -Come, little señorita, let us move back a space, and leave him to be -presented to one at a time. The master first, as is right it should be.” - -“Well!” ejaculated that gentleman, left in the paddock, regarding with -growing astonishment the small figure which approached, leading Diablo -by his silken thrall, and with one arm thrown upward upon his neck. -“You are the most wonderful child in the United States!” - -Steenie smiled, and her eyes shone, but not from vanity at this -unbounded praise. She had been hearing just such exclamations all her -life from her beloved, outspoken Santa Felisans, and she knew that they -came only from a mutual love. But she was proud of her new conquest; -and she led Diablo close to his master, and held out the end of the -cord for the Judge to take. “If you are just gentle with him, sir, -he’ll behave beautifully. He’s been frightened; that’s all.” - -He was frightened still, and, at the first motion of his owner’s -extended hand, drew backward, nervously. - -“Frightened! If ever I saw ugliness in a brute, I see it in him now. -Observe his eyes.” - -“Oh, don’t say that, sir, please! You don’t understand. ’Xcuse me, but -I’m sure you don’t. Bob says a fine horse is all ‘nerves,’ an’ the -’most sensitive thing in creation.’ He says folks ought to treat ’em -like babies; ’cause they feel things more. Softly, my pretty one! Don’t -you be afraid. Steenie’ll let nobody hurt you--not a body--even him!” - -“Hm-m!” - -“Somebody’s whipped him sometime, or struck him cruelly.” - -“Why shouldn’t they? He’s acted like a villain.” - -“I wish I’d been here! He wouldn’t then--’cause I know. See. He’s -all gentle now. You may put your hand on his nose; but it must be -kind--kind--’cause that’s the way.” - -Diablo did permit his master to fondle him; and at the first touch of -the delicate nostrils all the Judge’s love for horse-flesh sprang to -the front, and with it a subtler appreciation of horse-nature than -he had ever before known. “Poor fellow! Is it so? Are you not really -vicious?--then I’ll not part with you.” - -“Part with him? Why, sir?” - -“Because I thought he would be useless to us. I bought him for a -carriage horse, to match that other colt, Brown Bess; but, while she is -breaking in like a kitten, he has resisted everybody. I think he will -again--after you go away from him.” - -“Then I won’t go away. Oh, wait a moment! I’ve thought of something. -S’posin’ you teach Diablo to be your very own, ownest horse; s’posin’ -you don’t let any grooms or anybody do anything for him but just you, -yourself! You could make him as smart as Tito, maybe.” - -“‘Maybe’? Is Tito so brilliant, then?” asked the Judge, smiling, and -greatly delighted that Diablo now stood quietly beside them, nibbling -at the grass or sniffing about Steenie’s curly head, without resenting -their presence or voices. Sutro and Beatrice had also drawn near and -leaned against the paling to hear what the others were saying. - -“Why--he doesn’t--shine. That’s ‘brilliant,’ isn’t it? But he’s awful -’telligy--I mean intelligent. Bob says, ‘He’s the brainiest horse -he’s ’quainted with, an’ sweetest tempered to boot.’ He knows every -single word I say to him; and if he can’t talk much with his tongue, -he does with his actions an’ his eyes. He drives without reins, an’ he -waltzes--beau-u-tifully! An’ he limps, an’ ‘goes it blind,’ an’ does -the cutestest things you ever saw a horse do. Oh, won’t you let Diablo -be just as clever? Either for your own self or Beatrice? Wouldn’t you -like Diablo for your very own, Beatrice?” - -“No; I should not,” answered that young person, decisively. - -“I’ve half a mind to try your notion, little one! There’s no fool like -an old fool, they say; and, maybe, I shall do better at horse-training -than at law. It’s a step upwards, too, from the ‘bench’ to the saddle! -But--I confess I’m very ignorant. The ‘breaking’ of my horses has -always been left to professional trainers. I have, heretofore, been -perfectly satisfied to accept results only.” - -“It seems perfectly funny to hear ’bout ‘breaking’ horses like they -were dishes. Bob says it’s a wrong word, an’ it’s ’sponsible for more -suffering to the poor things ’an any other word in the language.” - -“Humph! Who is this oracle, ‘Bob’?” - -Steenie explained, and the Judge was so interested that he exclaimed: -“I wonder if I couldn’t induce him to come out here and take care of my -stock-farm?” - -“Maybe,” answered Steenie; “but I don’t guess so. He says there isn’t -room enough for his lungs out East. He needs a great deal of breathin’ -space.” - -“Well--Bob or no Bob--will you give an old man like me a few lessons in -horse-break--What word shall I use?” - -“It’s teaching,--just teaching ’em. Like Beatrice an’ I go to school. -It’s funny for me to tell you things, isn’t it? ’Cause my grandmother -thinks you’re a--what did she call it! A very wonderful magician--no, -lo-gician; and when I asked her what that was, she said maybe I could -understand ‘smart’ better.” - -“Thank you. Now, when shall our next lesson be?” - -“To-morrow--to-morrow--that ever is. ’Cause it doesn’t do to let Diablo -forget us. He’s same as babies yet. He hasn’t learned to remember.” - -“To-morrow, then; and I am greatly indebted to you. I believe--with -both halves of my mind, now--I will decide to act wholly upon your -suggestion, and see what comes of it. I will train him for myself, -alone. I shall be at home, hereafter, for some weeks; and the -opportunity is mine.” - -“Oh, how glad I am! Do you hear that, Diablo, darling? You’re going -to be nobody’s horse but just this kind, kind man’s! You’re never -to be whipped, nor loaded, nor over-driven, nor checked-back, nor -strapped-down, nor anything horrid like these queer Old Knollsboro -folks do to horses!” - -“Hold on, hold on! I have not promised any of these ‘thousand and one’ -things, little lady! I shall want him to be useful.” - -“Of course, and that’s why you won’t do them. I saw some poor horses -on the street yesterday. They were before a big carriage, as heavy, as -heavy! And they had ugly straps to hold their poor heads up--this way! -Till their throats ached so they couldn’t breathe, hardly. Not like you -help them with a strap when they’re racing, so the wind won’t choke -in their ‘pipes,’--’cause that isn’t bad, just for the little minute -they have ’em so; but these were all crooked back, terr’ble, so they -couldn’t see, only a little way up toward the sky. They had a mis’able -action; ’cause they had ‘blinders’ on, besides, and all they dared to -do was just step straight up an’ down, up an’ down, fear they’d hurt -themselves. The coachman was lashing them to make them go,--’cause his -carriage folks seemed in a hurry; an’ I should have laughed at him, -if I hadn’t had to cry for them--the horses. I couldn’t help thinking -’bout ’em when I went to bed; an’ my father says ‘It’s ign’rant -cruelty,’ an’ ‘if the folks understood horses’ feelings, like they’d -ought to, why everybody’d be gladder.’” - -“Humph! You’re a very close observer. And now, shall I lift you over -the fence?” - -“No, thank you. I’m going to walk once around the paddock with Diablo, -and ’xplain to him ’bout our having to go, and our coming back -to-morrow, an’ everything. You can bid him good-by, if you want to.” - -“May I, indeed? How shall I do it?” - -“Why--same’s folks. Same’s me. Say, ‘Good-morning, Diablo; pleased -to make your ’quaintance,’ or anything nicey sounding an’ p’lite. He -knows, Diablo does. An’ you want him brought up like a gentleman’s -horse, don’t you? So he’ll understand when folks use good language, an’ -not what Papa calls ‘ruffian talk.’ He knows, Diablo does. See here? -See that fine head, broad as anything above the eyes? That’s ’cause -it’s full of brains; an’ brains are where folks think an’ know things. -If he hadn’t have had a good head, he wouldn’t have understood me so -soon, first off. He looks as if he might be as clever as Tito, ’most.” - -“Good-morning, Diablo. I am sincerely delighted to make friends with -you,” said Judge Courtenay, very gravely, though with a twinkle in his -eyes. - -But Steenie did not care for the twinkle, only laughed in return; and, -by her hand upon his face forcing the colt’s head down, she gently -grasped his forelock and bent it still lower. “Bow p’litely, dear -Diablo, ’cause you’d ought to.” Then she walked away as she had come, -with her arm upon his shoulder, and his light leading-string held -carelessly in her other hand. - -The Judge climbed back over the paling, and, catching sight of Sutro’s -exultant face, laughed and pulled out his watch. “Well, old fellow! -You’re a pretty good prophet! Five minutes past time, that’s all.” - -“_Caramba!_ More than that since she brought him up to thee with the -lariat round his nozzle, no?” - -“Beaten--beaten! I give it up. But do you know, señor, that you have -the honor to serve a very remarkable young person?” - -“Ten thousand pardons, Señor Juez [Judge], I have known that forever. -_Si._” - -“Hm-m. There she comes; and I leave it to you, Señor Vives, to convey -to her family my acknowledgment of her services. If in any way I can -serve her or them, they have but to command me.” - -The Judge had a better understanding of human than equine nature. He -knew that he could not have found a messenger more delighted to carry -messages of courtesy than old Sutro, nor one who would do so more -gracefully. He knew, also, that his cordial gratitude would be shorn of -nothing, but rather embellished, by its passage over the caballero’s -lips. - -“At thy feet, señor. Thy appreciation of our so beloved one will -give pleasure to our household. I have the honor to salute thee; -and--Service? Ten thousand pardons--but there is a way in which--at thy -leisure--” - -Again the Judge pulled out his watch, “You have but to name, as I said. -To-morrow, during the children’s study-hour, I will be pleased to hear -your suggestions.” - -“Thanks. Thanks. The service old Sutro claims is for our ‘Little Lady -of the Horse,’--not for himself. _Mañana_, then; and _Adios_!” - -Five minutes later, Steenie, mounted upon her Tito, and with her -caballero walking proudly by her side, paced slowly out of the Judge’s -grounds. “It has been a good, good day, my Sutro! Such a happiness! -You will be happy too, is it not? And what do you think, besides? That -kind, splendid gentleman says that he has a pretty, black horse, whom -nobody uses much, that shall be loaned to you whenever we wish for a -long ride. Then you will not have to go hobblety-bob on those poor -worn-out livery hacks. Are you not glad?” - -“Glad. _En verdad._ But of more yet, _mi niña_. Old Sutro has something -in his head besides nonsense, no? Listen. He offered service--and there -is a way, in verity. I told him. _Mañana_--he will do it, and Sutro’s -heart will be at peace. Thou wilt then have money--more than thou canst -ever use. It is so. I tell thee.” - -“Su-tro-Vi-ves! What--have you done? Have you asked that gentleman for -money? Do you need it? Why not ask my father, then? Oh, Sutro!” - -“_Tente_ [hold on]! Thou leapest to a blunder as Tito does over a -hurdle. I have asked no man for money, I. Why not? Because, in all -California, there is no man who has more of it than I. And what I have -I will give to thee. Thou art to be my _heredera_ [heiress], thou. -After Sutro Vives thou wilt inherit.” - -“Ah! ha, ha, my rich one! And what shall I inherit, sir? All your whims -and notions, and your old sombrero, maybe? ‘No?’” - -“‘_Sta buen_’! Laugh if thou wilt; in derision now, but, by-and-by, in -glee. And what shalt thou inherit? Wait and see. Wait and see. I would -have told thee but for thy ridicule. No matter. Quite time enough for -thee--when Sutro Vives is done with life. Which will be soon, no? But I -say--yes.” - -“And I say no, no, no! good Sutro,” said Steenie, sobered instantly by -the gloomy look which settled upon her old comrade’s face. “You are to -live longer than any Vives who ever was, and to use every bit of your -wonderful riches for your own cristy, crusty, blessed self. Hear me say -that, my caballero,--I, your own ‘Little Lady of the Horse’! So there! -And home again!” - -Sutro smiled once more. His mood was wholly dependent upon that of -his beloved “_niña’s_,” who was his one object in life; and, with the -smile still upon his face, he swung her from Tito’s back, and led the -latter away to the comfortable stall which now bade fair to become his -permanent home. - -“Here we are, Papa, Grandmother! And the loveliest time in all -the world! Oh, it’s just fun, fun, fun to go to school in a -summer-house--and be a colt teacher afterward--Why, Papa! What--what is -the matter? Are your eyes--” - -But she did not finish the sentence. A groan, such as is wrung from -strong men only by great trouble, fell from her father’s lips, as he -stretched out his arms to enfold her, and dropped his poor, sightless -eyes upon her shoulder. “My dear little Steenie! What is to become of -you!” - -The child’s glance flew round to her grandmother’s face; but its -expression startled her even more than her father’s despondency. Madam -Calthorp sat gazing straight before her, but seeing nothing, saying -nothing, while every drop of blood seemed to have left her white cheek, -and the seams of an added decade to have fallen upon it. - -“Grandmother--don’t! Don’t look like that! What awful thing has -happened? Do speak to me--please! Somebody!” - -The words broke the spell of that strange silence. But Steenie had -never in her life seen anything so sorrowful as the gaze which came out -of vacancy to fix itself upon her own person. - -“My poor little darling, everything has come upon us--but death. We are -ruined. Ruined!” - - - - -CHAPTER XI. - -[Illustration: RESOLVED TUBBS.] - - -Nobody said anything more. - -Steenie stood perfectly still, too perplexed to even try to understand -what “ruin” meant; till, after awhile, her father lifted his head and -released her from this, to her terrible, position. Then she darted from -the room and from those tragic faces, as if, by turning her back upon -them, she could banish them from her thought. - -In the kitchen she found Resolved Tubbs with his Bible on his knee. - -Now Resolved was a good man, a really sincere Christian; but Steenie -had lived long enough in the house to learn that when Brother Tubbs -sat down at midday with his Bible on his knee and his spectacles pulled -into place, he was in a state of mind to read Jeremiah only, and ignore -the more joyful prophets. - -She had come with the gayest of spirits into the astonishing gloom of -the household, and she wanted no more dismalness; so she tarried in the -kitchen but long enough to catch one sepulchral gleam from Resolved’s -uplifted “glasses,” and passed out into the garden where she had seen -Mary Jane calmly gathering strawberries. - -“Well, it can’t be so awful, I believe, or she wouldn’t be doing that!” -thought the troubled child, and hurried forward to the housekeeper’s -side. - -“Mary Jane! dear Mary Jane! Whatever has happened? What is ‘ruin,’ and -who has done it?” - -“Hm-m. That’s a’most more’n I can say. Didn’t they tell ye nothin’, -dearie?” - -“Not a thing. Only Papa says: ‘What’s to become of me!’ and -Grandmother: ‘We’re ruined.’ But I think Mr. Resolved knows, ’cause -he’s sitting down an’ looking unhappy reading. What is it?” - -“The miser’ble unbeliever!--even if he is my own flesh an’ blood! Why -can’t he turn to an’ do sunthin’, an’ keep a-thinkin’: ‘The Lord’ll -provide,’ stidder huntin’ out more trouble from the blessed Book? I’ve -a mind ter go in an’ shake him!” - -“Why, Mary Jane! Shake Mr. Tubbs!” Steenie’s horrified imagination -picturing that lumbago-tortured old man in his sister’s vigorous grasp. - -“Well, o’ course, not really. But, I’d like ter know! Here comes -the bad news, an’ down flops the hull fambly, an’ goes ter -sighin’--furnaces! Stidder ary one liftin’ finger ter see what kin be -done ’bout it. That ain’t my way o’ ’terpretin’ the Scripters; an’ I -don’t want it ter be your’n.” - -“I guess it won’t be, Mary Jane. I don’t like to feel bad, never.” - -“No more do I! So--reckin you’ll be as well off out here ’ith me, doin’ -sunthin’, as anywheres elset, fer the space o’ the next short time. -So--jest set down on the grass there, dearie, an’ hull what berries -I’ve got picked, while I get some more; an’ I’ll tell yer all I know -’bout anything.” - -Steenie promptly obeyed. Mary Jane’s cheerfulness of temper was very -pleasant, and they had long ago become fast friends. “Now--tell, -please.” - -“Hm-m. Plain’s I understand it, it’s this way: Your pa an’ yer granma -has lost every dollar they had in the world. They’re as poor now as I -be,--poorer.” - -“Well?” asked Steenie, to whom “dollars” and “poverty” conveyed no -distinct impression. - -“Well? Ain’t that enough? But I don’t b’lieve you re’lize it a mite. I -can’t, hardly myself yet, nuther. But all the money yer granma had, an’ -it wa’n’t more’n jest enough ter keep us livin’, plain an’ comfort’ble -as we do, was up in a bank, some’res. I hain’t no faith in banks. -They’re ’tarnally bu’stin’, er doin’ sunthin’ startlin’. I always -keep mine in a stockin’; an’ the stockin’ ’s in a big blue box in the -bottom o’ that hair trunk o’ mine. Things bein’ so uncertain in this -life, I think it’s best ter tell ye; but don’t ye lisp a word,--not -even to brother Resolved. ’Cause he’d be boun’ ter have it put in some -differ’nt place not half so safe. In case I should be took off suddent, -as folks sometimes is, somebody’d oughter know; an’ you’re trustible. -I’ve found that out.” - -“Thank you. But, about the bank. What is it?” - -“Beat if I kin tell ye plain. ’Cause I don’t scurce know myself. -Old Knollsboro bank is that big brick buildin’ acrost from the stun -church. An’ in it, somehow, folks hides all the money they have; an’ -the bank folks pays ’em out little dribs on ’t to a time; an’ that’s -all they have ter keep house on. That’s as near as I kin put it. Most -every town has a bank, too; but, ’cause yer pa thought they wasn’t -no other so safe as the old one here to Knollsboro he uset ter put -all his sellery, too, inter this one; an’ now it’s done jest like the -rest on ’em often does,--it’s bu’sted. That’s what Resolved calls -it. Yer granma said ‘failed;’ but I ’low it comes ter the same thing -when it means ’at every dollar they had, uther one, is lost, somehow. -An’ what’s wusser: yer granma owned ‘stawk’ in it, too; though how -anybody could keep a livin’ head er critter an’ not never let it be -seen, ’s more’n I fathom er try ter. I s’pose they partered it out, er -sunthin.’ An’ now that stawk’s gone too, an’ ter make it good, she’s -li’ble ter a hull lot o’ thousan’ dollars. Think on it! Ever so many -hull--‘durin’--thousan’--dollars! An she says--I heered her tellin’ -Mr. Dan’l--that ‘she must pay it if it took this house.’ An’ he says: -‘Mother! Where you’ve lived yer hull life! It would kill you!’--an’ I -’low it would.” - -“But how could a body pay anything with a house?” - -“Sell it, I s’pose, an’ take that money an’ throw it arter t’other -’at’s gone. I dunno, rightly; fer that’s jest what I asted Resolved, -an’ all he said was: ‘Sil-ly women! Sell er mortgage--sil-ly wom-en! -They don’t never have no heads fer business!’ So, arter that, I knowed -no more’n I did afore,--which wasn’t nothin’, square. But how’s a body -to l’arn if their men critters won’t l’arn ’em? An’ I guess we’ve got -as many berries as we shall eat ter-day; an’ that’s knowledge more in -my line ’n tryin’ ter explain things I don’t understan’. So let’s go in -out o’ the sun.” - -They entered the house, whither Sutro had preceded them, and found that -sociable person vainly endeavoring to extract more than monosyllables -from the lips of his house-mate, Tubbs. At which Mary Jane’s ready -wrath burst forth upon her pessimistic brother. - -“I don’t see what ails you--Resolved, ’at ye can’t give a body a civil -answer! You--hain’t lost nothin’, ’at I knows on. An’ if ye call it a -Christian way o’ meetin’ trials, ter set there an’ let a poor heathen -Mexicer pester the life out on ye ’fore ye’ll speak him a decent word, -I dunno! It ain’t the way with good Baptist folks, anyhow.” - -As Mr. Tubbs had long before accepted the Methodist creed, while his -sister had professed another, this was an old bone of contention, which -he was quite ready to pick up, to the forgetfulness of newer grievances. - -Which was exactly what Mary Jane desired. “Best way ter stir Resolved -out o’ the hypoes is ter make him mad! Then he’ll fly ’round an’ fergit -lumbago an’ ever’thing elset. He’ll chop more kindlin’ in ten minutes -when he’s riled, ’an he will in a hull day when things goes ter suit -him.” - -He became “riled” on the instant, and shut his Bible with a bang, while -his spectacles were shoved into their usual resting-place upon his bald -head with an energy that endangered the glass. - -To escape an impending war of words, Steenie retreated to the presence -of her own kin once more, and this time with a determination to beg -from them enough information to enable her to understand clearly this -new anxiety they were suffering. - -“Yes, Steenie, I will tell you,” said Madam Calthorp, gently, and -quite in her natural manner again. “But do you go out of doors, Daniel. -The air is better for you, and Sutro has returned. I will be careful -in my disclosures, but there is no need for you to hear the painful -repetition.” - -Mr. Calthorp rose wearily. There was a look of hopelessness about his -fine face which even blindness had not brought to it; and Steenie -watched him depart with a heavier heart than she had ever known. - -“Now, Grandmother.” - -“Yes, dear. To begin with, though we were never rich, neither -were we poor. We had enough, with economy, to provide for all our -ordinary needs, and a surplus for emergencies. What your father had -inherited and acquired, together with my own money, was all in one -place,--intrusted to a corporation of which your grandfather was the -founder, and which people said was ‘as good as the bank of England.’ -Some weeks ago, about the time you came from Santa Felisa, I heard -rumors of trouble about this money of ours, and I instituted inquiries -to verify or disprove them. The report brought to me was that they were -without foundation, that our possessions were as secure as they had -always seemed, and that I need have no uneasiness whatever. I did not -mention these rumors to my son, because his own personal affliction -appeared to be as much as he--as any of us--could bear; but now I wish -that I had done so. Of course he could not read; and his sensitiveness -about meeting people, together with my mistaken kindness, kept him -wholly ignorant until the blow fell. This morning, after you left us, -a messenger was sent to us by the directors, announcing the sudden -and utter failure of the bank; as well as that I, a stockholder, am -liable--that is, in debt--for several thousand dollars. Now, this is -exactly our situation: I own this house and a small farm in another -part of the county. That I can sell for enough to pay my indebtedness, -except about one thousand dollars. Many poor people will be losers -by this failure, and I cannot rest, retaining anything--even if I -might--which would relieve their necessities. So, the only course -left us is to sell this house also; and out of its proceeds pay the -extra one thousand. There will be a small sum remaining, or should -be,--enough I hope to hire a tiny cottage somewhere; but how we are to -exist in that cottage the future alone can prove.” - -Steenie listened attentively, breathlessly; her big blue eyes fixed -upon her grandmother’s face, and rejoicing in the calmness which had -returned to it. She did not know that the only expression of distress -which the proud Madam had given, had been the one exclamation at first -sight of her own self. “Everything has come upon us--but death. We are -ruined. Ruined!” - -“When, Grandmother? When will we go to the cottage?” - -“Oh, I do not know. Not just yet. The adjustment of these matters will -take time; we shall not be disturbed in the immediate present; but the -eventual condition of affairs will be what I have decided already. And -Steenie, my dear little child, now you have a chance to be even doubly -helpful to your poor father. Blindness is a trial which no seeing -person can comprehend; but for a strong man to suffer it, and to know -that he cannot do one thing to alleviate the necessities of those who -are dear to him, is terrible. It is this which is so intolerable to my -son. If he could regain his sight, no matter how poor he was, he would -face the world gayly for your sake and mine. He would work for us and -forget all the mishap; but to be idle in such a strait--ah! I know from -my own heart what it must be to him.” - -“Poor, poor papa! But can’t _I_ do something? Maybe I can! I’m not -blind nor old, and I’m as strong as strong. See here! I can lift -a chair ever so high! And Judge Courtenay says I’m most puffectly -’veloped for a ten-year-old goin’ on ’leven. I’m much bigger’n -Beatrice, an’ she’s half-past twelve. Isn’t there some way, -Grandmother, dear Grandmother? Think, please; in that in-telligence of -yours, maybe you’ll find out something. And if you do--won’t I do it! -Just you see!” - -“You precious baby! If your ability only matched your courage, -Grandmother knows that you would banish every care from all our hearts! -But, yes; there is one thing you can do: bear whatever deprivations you -may have with that same sunny spirit; be patient when, by-and-by, we -older folks begin to lose our own serenity, and grow fretful, perhaps, -and difficult to get along with. You can remember then that it isn’t -what you call our ‘truly selves,’ but the worn nerves and depressed -hearts that cause the sharp words and moods. Early to learn a woman’s -lesson, my gay little Steenie; but I believe you are capable of -learning it well.” - -All which Steenie did not quite understand. This book-loving old -student was apt to “talk over the head” of a “’most-’leven”-year-old; -but she gained this much: that, no matter what happened, she was to -make things as bright as she could, and her loving heart responded -loyally. - -“I’ll be as patient as patient. And I’ll never let my papa think a -thing I can help; and--Oh! There’s the dinner-bell!” - -Probably this common, every-day sound was a relief to everybody in the -house; and though the meal was served a full hour later than usual, the -extra care which had been expended upon it more than compensated for -the delay. - -“Oh, Mary Jane! How good that beefsteak does smell!” - -“Humph! Better enjoy it while ye kin. Only the Lord knows how long any -on us’ll eat beefsteak!” commented Resolved Tubbs, dolefully. - -“Hush yer complainin’, can’t ye! An’ as long as the Lord continners ter -bother ’ith us poor worms an’ sends porter-houses, receive ’em in the -same sperrit, an’ be thankful!” retorted Mary Jane. - -“Well, I call that sacrilegious, if you have enj’yed full immersion!” -said the brother, snapping at a fly upon the table-cloth with such -energy as to upset the salt. - -“There it goes! Only the quer’l come afore the upsettin’. An’ -I do say it: I’d ruther be sacrilegious with my tongue, ’an so -sack-cloth-an’-ashesy with my sperrit.” - -“Resolved! Mary Jane!” remonstrated Madam, sternly, yet with a -smile dawning upon her lips. And if ever a quarrel can be said to -be opportune, that one was; for Steenie laughed outright, and Sutro -tittered, while even Mr. Calthorp lost the gravity of his expression -for a little. - -It was a good dinner! And there was more sense in Mary Jane’s -philosophy than in her brother’s after all; for the savory dishes -tempted appetites into existence, and through material enjoyment made -even mental disquietude easier to endure. - -But after dinner was over, Mr. Calthorp retired to his own room and -closed the door, and Madam retreated to her library; so that Steenie, -driven to her own resources, did the most natural thing in the world: -got Sutro to saddle Tito and set off for a gallop, leaving the old -caballero to attend upon her father, “case he should come out an’ want -somebody an’ not both of us be gone.” - -Sutro remained, partly on account of Steenie’s argument, and partly -that for a long ride he utterly disdained the livery hack it had been -his fortune to use during his stay at Old Knollsboro; for he did not -feel quite free to go to Rookwood, so soon again, and borrow “the -pretty black horse” which had been offered for his enjoyment. - -Thus he was forced to hear various unpleasant remarks from Resolved -Tubbs’ grim lips about “plenty o’ mouths ter fill ’ithout no -furriners,” and so on; all which, busied in visions of his own brain, -he ignored as referring to himself. For wasn’t he at that very moment -planning the details of a scheme which should enrich everybody? - -As for Steenie, she gave Tito his head, and he took it, far out into -the open country, with a will and spirit that drove every care from -his little rider’s mind. But after he had travelled a long distance he -cast a shoe; and, seeing a smithy near, Steenie rode up to the door and -coolly requested to have the shoe set. - -[Illustration: Steenie coolly requested to have the shoe set.--Page -178.] - -“Humph! Who are you, any way, child? And who is going to pay me for my -trouble?” demanded the farrier, with equal coolness. - -Pay for it? Why, at Santa Felisa, the smith was “their own”--nobody -paid. Here--Steenie didn’t like such difficult questions, but she -answered, simply enough: “I s’pose somebody will. I’m Steenie Calthorp; -and Tito can’t go home barefoot, over these rough roads, can he? You -must see that for yourself, Mr. Smith, don’t you?” - -“I see that, plain enough; and if you are one of the Calthorps down -at Knollsboro--here goes! They’re honest folks, and always have been. -Never a poor man lost a cent by them, and that’s the truth. They’re -the right kind of aristocrats, they are. Pay for what they have, and -what they can’t pay for go without, and no complaining. But no matter -this time aboot pay for a trifle of kindness like this. I’ll shoe this -handsome fellow, and proud of the job, any time you choose to ride out -this way and show me how a little girl _can_ ride when she puts her -mind to it. That’s so. You may count upon it.” - -“Why, Mr. Smith! I’m sure that’s very kind of you, an’ I ’preciate it. -I like to see a man shoe a horse, when he does it neatly, an’ what Bob -calls ‘with sense of a horse’s feelings.’ I think I could almost be a -farrier myself, sometimes. I do, so.” - -“A farrier, hey? There’s something you could do far better than that. -Where did you learn to ride?” - -“I never learned. I always rode.” - -“Where?” - -“At Santa Felisa, California.” - -“So? Then all I have to say is that you had better set up a school and -teach some of these young folks round here, who almost murder their -horses with their blundering clumsiness. For I never saw anybody sit a -horse as well as you do; and that’s the truth.” - -When the shoe was set, Steenie thanked the helpful smith, promised -to visit him again, and went on her way homeward. But she was very -thoughtful and preoccupied; and Tito, fully sympathizing with her mood, -dropped into a gentle canter, and broke his pleasant pace not once till -his mistress suddenly bent forward and threw her arms around his neck. - -“Tito, my Tito! I’ll do it! I will, I will!” - -Tito softly nodded up and down. Whatever she meant to do,--and it was -something which made her eyes shine and her face dimple with hopeful -smiles,--be sure that her wise playfellow fully intended to help her. - - - - -CHAPTER XII. - -[Illustration: RATTLESNAKE.] - - -“Well, Señor Vives, I am at your service now,” announced Judge -Courtenay, at the next appearance of Steenie and her caballero at -Rookwood. “In what can I advise you?” - -“Hm-m. It is a profound secret. Ten thousand pardons, Señor Juez [Mr. -Judge]; but I may close the door, no?” - -“Close it, certainly, if you wish; but we are not likely to be -disturbed. This is my private office.” - -“I would not for a hundred worlds that others should hear what I -disclose!” repeated old Sutro, cautiously. - -“You are perfectly safe. Be assured.” - -“_Si?_ Then here is my desire: I wish to prepare my _testamento_ -[will]. In verity, that is my hope and prayer.” The Spaniard’s face -wore an expression of grave importance. - -“Your will? Well, that is, indeed, a serious matter. Have you fully -considered it?” - -“_Caramba!_ Have I not? _En verdad_, it has long since been -arranged--in here,” said the client, tapping his forehead, solemnly. - -“Very well, then, let us to business. Give me the points of the matter, -and my clerk shall draw up the paper.” - -“Clerk? No, no! No. _Por Dios!_ No. Thinkest thou that I would give -such knowledge as I shall make known to the winds? It is a secret, I -tell thee. A secret!” - -“Very well, then,” answered the Judge, a little impatiently. He was a -very busy man, just then enjoying a needed vacation, and he had little -inclination for clerical work, especially in a case like this where the -interests at stake were, presumably, very small. He was doing what he -did for Steenie’s sake only; because the old Californian was dear to -the child in whom he was so much interested. “Very well, then; let us -begin. What is the first bequest?” - -“The first? It is the last,--first, last, and the whole. I wish to give -everything I possess--that is Santa Trinidad--to the most adorable -Doña Steenie Calthorp.” - -“Indeed? You are generous. What is Santa Trinidad?” - -“It is a mountain. It was part of Santa Felisa Rancho, when San’ Felis’ -was greater than now, and belonged to the family of Vives, yes.” - -“It is valuable?” - -For a moment the eye of the old man gleamed craftily; then he asked: -“Must thou know that?” - -“As you please.” - -Sutro considered. By nature he was not very secretive, and of lesser -matters he was as sure to babble as to breathe; but this was different. -He held, or believed that he held, knowledge of utmost importance; -and he had seen enough of property dealings among the--to him--new -possessors of his old California to understand that it was just the -knowledge which would make them defraud him if they could. Lord -Plunkett had seemed an honest man; yet it was such as Lord Plunkett who -had usurped the broad acres once belonging to his own race and people. -However, he must trust somebody. He must have help. - -“_Caramba!_ Wilt thou, Señor Juez, swear--_por Dios_--that thou wilt -not betray me? That I can trust thee?” - -“You can trust me entirely, but I will not swear; for I give my oath to -no man,” answered the Judge, becoming interested. - -For a full half-minute Sutro stared fixedly into the face of his new -friend; then, reading in that noble countenance nothing but good-will -and uprightness, he plunged into his subject with a recklessness which -hid nothing, either of knowledge or imagination. “La Trinidad is a -cloven mountain. Its inhabitants are rattlesnakes, who, poor beasts, -the Americans fear. Not so Spaniards and men of sense--not even -Indians; a thousand times not so old Sutro. Why? Because I understand, -can meet them without peril; and because _they are the guards to -treasure untold_. No man knows it save Sutro Vives--and now thou; but -the heart of La Trinidad is a heart of--” The testator rose from his -chair, his face thrilled by excitement, and placing his lips to the -Judge’s ear, hissed one word therein. - -“What is that you say?” - -Sutro repeated the whisper. - -“What! Man alive! Do you mean it? Do you know this to be true?” - -“As I know that the sun shines now. _En verdad._” - -“What proof have you?” - -“This.” Sutro unfastened his buckskin vest, and opened a leathern bag -which depended from his swarthy neck. “Believest thou now?” - -“I believe what I see, always. But that this came from Santa Trinidad, -how am I to know that?” - -“Humph! A caballero may lie, yes; but not where he loves as I love -Doña Steenie. Sawest thou ever a child like her? Eyes of such clear -truthfulness? Lips so loving and so sweet? Face so bonny? Ways -so--not-to-be-resisted? And heart so pure? No, a thousand times. She is -one--alone. She is under the especial charge of Heaven. She is worth -all--all. If the whole of California were mine I would give it her, and -know it were well given. I would so, yes!” And warmed by his own theme, -the old man left his chair and paced the room, gesturing eloquently, as -is the custom of his race. - -Judge Courtenay’s interest increased; but, at that moment, it centred -less in the bequest than in the beneficiary. “I agree with you, Señor -Vives, that there is something ‘not-to-be-resisted’ about this ‘Little -Lady of the Horse,’ as you say you Westerners call her; but still I -cannot help wondering how she has gained your devotion so entirely.” - -“How? Listen and thou shalt learn. When the good _Dios_ sent her into -this world Sutro Vives was a miserable old man,--even then. He had been -wronged--wronged--wronged--till his heart was hard and bitter. He had -lost faith in everything, below and above; and he kept Santa Trinidad -in spite of everybody,--because its serpent-infested rocks were a -menace to the world. From them he meant to take his revenge. He used to -carry them, the snakes, down to the _hacienda_, and place them where -they would do the most harm. It was the only joy left.” - -“One day--the day they buried the poor Señora Calthorp--he carried a -creature bigger, more venomous than any other. He turned it loose on -the threshold of Santa Felisa, and sat down to watch. By-and-by, a -little thing, all soft and white, came creeping, creeping through the -doorway, and spied the serpent, yes. It was pretty, too, and soft; -but it was not white nor good. The wicked Sutro watched. Santa Maria -watched also. The little fingers went out and touched the reptile, and -the Mother of God touched a wicked heart. In a second--before the -beautiful head of the serpent could rear itself--_la criaturita_ [the -baby girl] was in the old man’s arms. Did she hate him, no? _Gracias -a Dios_ [Thanks be to God]!--she folded her own little arms about his -neck and buried her rose-leaf face against his ugly face; and the demon -of hate and murder left him. _Si!_ That is the tale.” - -It was a moving one. Judge Courtenay was not the man to resist -its influence; nor did he ever thereafter doubt one assertion of -Sutro Vives where Steenie was concerned. The love that is rooted in -superstition is love that lasts. - -“Well, I will draw up the document for you as carefully as possible. -But the inheritor is a minor. She must have some one appointed to act -for her until lawfully able to act for herself; in case your demise -occurs prior to that time.” - -This suggestion had a legal sound about it that captivated Sutro’s -ears; and he gathered enough of its meaning to reply: “I understand. If -I die, it is the Señor Calthorp and Kentucky Bob who will carry out my -desires, no? But I do not wish to die first. I wish to live, I myself.” - -“Yes--yes! We all wish that.” - -“And must I die that my little one may get the good of Santa Trinidad?” - -“There is nothing to prevent your giving it to her now, while you are -still alive; but a ‘last will and testament’ implies the death of the -testator before action is taken upon it.” Then Judge Courtenay went on -to explain, as simply and briefly as he could, the various methods by -which Sutro Vives could benefit his favorite; and the old Spaniard did -the best he could to comprehend. - -But gradually a belief came into Sutro’s mind, and fixed itself there, -that if he died she would be better off. Because while he lived nobody -would care to spend the necessary money to investigate the discovery he -claimed,--mining being a most expensive business; but if he were dead, -Steenie’s guardians or trustees might do so for her benefit in justice -to their ward. - -Poor Sutro! It was a bitter notion, and one that made his face -grow pale as he contemplated it. He didn’t want to die; he loved -life dearly--dearly! Even at this strange East, where it rained -whenever it felt like it, and not at stated seasons when people were -prepared for it and duly expectant--as at San’ Felisa,--even here, -and with disagreeable Resolved Tubbs “to boot,” existence had many -pleasures,--not the least among these being Mary Jane’s excellent -cookery. To die--to put himself forever out of the reach not only of -the Little Un, but of Mazan´ to whom he had hoped to be reunited, and -of delicious chicken-patties, all at one fell swoop--that was too much! - -“Very well, then. I will delay the evil day, no? They are not suffering -now; and if this thousand dollars is not paid yet--why, when it falls -due, there will still be time! _En verdad._ Is it not so, Señor Juez?” - -“I do not understand you, Caballero; but if you have finished your -directions I will put aside these notes for the present. The will shall -be duly drawn up and read to you; when, if satisfactory, it can be -attested by your own chosen witnesses. It is about time for me to take -my second lesson in colt training; and before I go, I want to ask you -if you have heard the Calthorp family speak of this great bank failure, -which has ruined so many?” - -“Have I not? _Si?_ Is it not that which has prompted, this day so -soon, the _testamento_? That, but for this sudden poverty, I could -have postponed till some far away _mañana_ [future]. Señor Tubbs -says that my people have become poor--poor--poor. My Señor Calthorp -goes into his room and broods and broods; and Señora, the Madam, she -smiles,--but with pale lips and heavy eyes. Ah, it is cruel, cruel! I -do not understand. I am no--what shall I say? Here, in my head, it is -not clear to comprehend this ‘business’ of the Americans, I. It was -that ‘business’ which was wrong when Santa Felisa Rancho passed from my -family to other men. It is ‘business’ again,--a ‘bank,’ which is worst -of all,--and, lo! to-day our pockets burst with the gold, to-morrow -they hold not a coin. _Por Dios!_ It is all wrong--” - -The Judge listened gravely. The flying rumors he had heard were -confirmed by Sutro’s statement. He had known, all along, that his old -friends would be losers to some extent by this failure; but the fact -that it involved their all was new to him and very painful. How to -assist them would be the question. The legal advice he could give them -would be theirs without the asking; but if the reports were wholly -true, they would need something besides legal advice to put the bread -into their mouths. - -“Papa! Are you never coming? We were as good as we could be, yesterday; -but we were better to-day! And we were let off from study five minutes -before the eleven o’clock. Come, please! Won’t you? I want to see you -and Diablo take your lesson, now Steenie and I have done.” - -Beatrice’s interruption was a pleasant relief to the sombre thoughts of -both lawyer and client; and Diablo’s owner answered, promptly, “Oh! oh! -That is all, is it? Revenge? You wish to see somebody else suffer the -torture which the last two hours have been to you? Eh? For lessons and -torture are synonyms in your book-hating mind, I fancy, my daughter.” - -“Now, Papa Courtenay! ’Xcuse me, but it’s no such thing. You’re teasing -me. And I shouldn’t think it hard work just to play with a colt!” - -“Should you not? Unless I mistake my valiant small girl, entirely, I -think it would take a deal of persuasion to make her exchange even her -dull lessons for mine!” - -At which playful irony Beatrice pouted, then laughed good-naturedly. -She had now no ambition horseward, beyond riding a very gentle old pony -at odd times; but she did enjoy the spectacle of others doing that -which she feared. - -“And how about you, Miss Steenie? Are you anxious to resume your -‘teaching’?” - -“Oh, yes, sir! I am a’most hungry to see Diablo! I told Papa ’bout him; -an’ he said, ‘Then you’re happy, dearie!’ and I am. Horses are so dear -and lovely. They are so--so--what is it when you love anything and it -loves you back?” asked Steenie, who had slipped her hand into one of -Judge Courtenay’s, while his own little daughter held fast to the other. - -“Responsive may be the word. But what is Sir Tito being brought along -for? Is he to be introduced to Diablo?” - -“Ye-es. But that wasn’t the first, the truly why. I--I have--there’s -something I want to ask you, by-and-by. That is, do you own that big -race-track over yonder, as Sutro says?” - -“Yes. I had it prepared for speeding my own horses; but some of -the neighbors use it also. I am anxious to increase the interest, -hereabouts, in well-bred stock, and so we have trials on it -occasionally. By the way, there is to be a public affair soon. The very -best horses in the county are entered for the contest,--prizes, and -so forth. I am quite anxious and doubtful over the result; for, till -now, my black filly Trix has carried everything before her. But Doctor -Gerould, of South Knollsboro, has just bought the famous Mordaunt, and -I fear my lady Trix will be hard pushed this time.” - -“Isn’t it funny, Steenie? My mama says that Papa would rather win that -race than the biggest ‘case’ that ever was! She says live horses are -his hobby-horses, ’at he rides to death! ’Cause she says ’at a’most -every rich man finds out some way to use money foolishly, an’ Papa’s -way is the goodest way there is, maybe.” - -“Come, come, Miss Beatrice! Retailing family affairs for a stranger’s -benefit?” asked the father, pinching his little girl’s cheek, roguishly. - -“Steenie an’ Sutro aren’t strangers, are they? They’re just--us, I -thought.” - -“‘Just us’--quite right. But here we are! Now, my fine fellow, look out -for yourself!” - -“I’ll go in first with this halter, please. Then you can come when I -call you,” said the small mistress of ceremonies, and vaulted over the -paling, lightly and joyously. - -There was no pretence about the sincerity of her pleasure. Her -sparkling eyes and dimpling face declared that without words; and, -to his utter amazement, Judge Courtenay saw that the pleasure was -mutual, for, instead of showing fear or resentment, or any trace of -forgetfulness, up marched Diablo, with all the eagerness in the world, -and extended his handsome nose with a neigh of salutation. - -“Well--well--well! Has the age of miracles returned?” exclaimed the -observer, almost unable to believe his own eyes. - -But when Diablo’s friendliness was forced to extend to himself, and -when, after an hour or two of a “lesson” which the gray-haired pupil -enjoyed beyond expression, he was able to lead the “unbreakable brute” -quietly out of the paddock to the “track,” his delight knew no bounds. - -“Upon my word, my little lady, I am your debtor to a very great extent. -I am ready to give you anything you ask!” - -“Huyler’s!” suggested Beatrice, in an eager whisper. “Ask him for -‘Huyler’s’--do!” - -“No conspiracy! What’s that you’re whispering, missy?” - -“Now, Papa! You said ‘anything,’ and I thought--candy.” - -“Is ‘Huyler’s’ candy? Pooh! I don’t care for that. I want you to do -something, though, Beatrice. Will you?” - -“Course. What?” - -“Let me show you how to ride. On my own Tito, that nobody ever rode -but me, that could be helped, that--Oh, you know!” - -“Why? What for?” - -“’Cause. Won’t you?” - -“Will he run away?” - -“He never did such a mean thing in all his darling life! Swing her up, -dear Sutro, please!” - -Sutro lifted Beatrice, who uttered a little squeal, half of terror, -half of pleasure, and placed her squarely on Steenie’s own comfortable -saddle. Then followed “lesson two,” while the Judge continued his own -experiments in horse-training on another part of the course. At the -close of which, all came gayly together at the entrance, and not a -face showed any care,--not even Sutro’s, who had now relegated to that -convenient “mañana” of his, the time when he should “die.” - -“Really, little Steenie, can I not serve you in some practical way? I -wish to do so most heartily,” asked the master of Rookwood, gratefully. - -“Yes, sir. You can give me some advice. I mean if you will,” answered -she. - -“Heigho! my practice is increasing!” thought the legal magnate. Aloud -he said: “To the best of my ability.” - -“I want to earn some money. I want to show other little girls how to -ride, same as I showed Beatrice, here. An’ maybe to teach other folks -horses, too, like Diablo. ’Cause we’re ‘ruined,’ Grandmother says; an’ -she’s an old lady, an’ my father’s blind, an’--an’--Can I?” - -“Wh-e-ew! You baby, you!” - -A hurt, indignant flush rose into Steenie’s eager face, and her lip -trembled. - -“There, there! My dear child! It was only -astonishment--admiration--which made me say that! Don’t misunderstand -me. You can do anything--anything--which you set out to do, -you--you--brave little thing!” - -With that the Judge wheeled sharply round, and tears gathered in -somebody’s eyes, but not in Steenie’s. - - - - -CHAPTER XIII. - - -[Illustration: SUTRO.] - -“My dear, suppose you let our friend Sutro, here, ride home and tell -your people that I am going to keep you for dinner? Then they will -not be anxious, and we will have leisure to consider this matter -thoroughly. What do you say?” The Judge’s tone, addressing Steenie, was -as grave and considerate as if she had been Madam Calthorp herself, and -it restored her wounded pride at once. - -Nobody likes being laughed at, least of all a child, about whose -earnestness there is never any pretence. “Baby” had been a hard word -for ambitious ears to hear. - -“Thank you. I should be as glad as glad to stay! If--my grandmother -said I was never to ’trude upon your ‘family life;’ that just -’cause you asked me to study with Beatrice, I mustn’t forget an’ -be too--something or other. It meant I mustn’t go round an’ be a -‘noosance,’ like Sutro is to Mr. Tubbs.” - -“‘Noosance’! She couldn’t be a ‘noosance,’ could she, Papa Courtenay?” -cried Beatrice, dancing gayly about her friend, delighted with the -prospect of a visit. - -“Never,” responded the Judge, cordially. “Señor Vives, it is settled, -then. Please convey my regards to Madam Calthorp and her son, and say -to them that I will give myself the pleasure of calling upon them -toward nightfall, and will bring this little girl with me. Your own -affair--the legal document--shall, also, be duly arranged. Good day.” - -“I have the happiness to salute thee, Señor Juez. In verity, I am -proud of the honor done my little one. I will discharge thy message -immediately. Ten thousand thanks. _Adios._” With the lightness of youth -the old Spaniard sprung upon Tito’s back, doffed his sombrero, bowed -profoundly, and rode cheerfully away. - -“How funny! It’s a side-saddle, too,” said Beatrice. - -“Yes. But that makes no difference to my caballero. He can ride in any -way on any animal, and always well. My father says he is a wonderful -old man; but he doesn’t seem any older ’n me, I think. He’s very good -an’ dear. My grandmother says ’at Sutro is worth everything to my -father now, in his blindness.” - -“I should think so, indeed! And now for dinner. After that--for a -talk about this teaching business. A race to the house! Here we go! -And a box of that coveted ‘Huyler’s’ to the winner! Step--step--step! -One--two--three! Off!” Away flashed the gay frocks, up and down flew -the little black-stockinged legs, and long before the Judge had -covered half the distance, the children sat cuddled together on the -piazza-step, hugging each other in the exuberance of their love and -happiness. “It’s so puffectly nice to have a little girl, same’s me!” -cried Steenie, ecstatically. “I used to have the ‘boys’ an’ nobody -else. I didn’t know ’bout girls, then, an’ the ‘boys’ are dear as dear! -But I like girls, now I’ve seen ’em,--some girls.” - -“Me? Do you like me?” - -“Course I do. Wasn’t I just telling you? Say, would you like to ride in -a circus?” - -“My--sake! No! Would you?” - -“Course. I have,--lots of times.” - -“Why--Steenie--Calthorp! Where? When? How? Who let you?” - -“Out home. Santa Felisa. Ever so many whens. Last one, just before we -came away; to show the Plunketty man--Lord--what his own ranchmen could -do. My father let me. Course.” - -“Was he nice?” - -“Who?” - -“The Plunketty man-lord. What is a man-lord, any way?” - -“Think I didn’t say it right. I mean lord-man. That is an Englishman. -My father says he can’t find land enough in their little bit o’ island -to buy, so he came to California an’ bought San’ Felisa. But he didn’t -come again for twelve years, a’most. An’ I never saw him, an’ then I -did; an’ he didn’t wear a cor’net at all! And he laughed like anything -when I told him what Suzan´ said. An’ he ’xplained beautiful. He does -have the cor’net, but he doesn’t have it for himself. It’s his houses’. -An’ sometimes the women of ‘his house’ wear it, when they ‘want to make -a stunnin’ show of theirselfs.’ But mostly they ‘have more sense,’ an’ -leave it where it b’longs, ’mongst the family plates an’ ‘gew-gaws.’ -That’s what he told me.” - -“Gew-gaws? Ginger! Was he a really, truly, lively lord? Was he?” - -“Live as anything. Live as you. Live as me or your papa. But, Beatrice, -you shouldn’t say ‘ginger.’ My grandmother says it’s not c’rect to use -’spressions.” - -“But there _is_--ginger! The cook puts it in molasses-cake. So there!” - -“Well. It’s c’rect enough to eat, I s’pose. But little gentlewomen -should show they’s little gentlewomen by their languages. So my -grandmother says, an’ she knows. ’Cause she knows everything in this -whole world.” - -“She couldn’t! She isn’t big enough. My papa says nobody knows -everything. An’ he talks mostest ’bout grammar, not gentlewomens. He -wouldn’t let you say ‘hisself’ or ‘theirselfs,’--I mean if he could -help it. ’Cause he wouldn’t me. An’ I know better ’n you, you see, -’cause I’ve been teached longer.” - -“Well, I s’pose you do. Though my grandmother’s c’rected me lots o’ -times ’bout them very same words. I--Only I forget. My forgettery -is always easier ’n my memory. Isn’t yours? An’ anyhow I don’t know -anything, ’cept ’bout horses. But I know more ’bout them ’an I could -tell you ‘in a month o’ Sundays.’” - -“How long is a ‘month o’ Sundays?’ When does it come? Before Christmas?” - -“I don’t know. Mary Jane knows. She talks ’bout it. An’ it comes--why -it must come any time! ’Cause when Mr. Resolved goes to market she -tells him not to be a ‘month o’ Sundays,’ or she can’t get the dinner -cooked in time. And--lots--Here’s your papa! Oh, I tell you I love him! -He’s so dear.” - -“You needn’t! He isn’t yours. You can’t have him,” cried Beatrice, -feeling her young heart swell with jealousy. - -“But I can love him, can’t I? If you couldn’t love my father you would -be funny. And, oh, isn’t it happy to be so glad! Most always, anyhow, I -think this is an awful nice world. Folks are so cosey an’ kind.” - -“An’ I don’t think it’s nice one bit. You’ll get the candy; I know you -will. You got here first!” - -“Well--if I did? Wouldn’t I give you half,--the evenest half we could -measure? S’pose I’d want it if you didn’t have it too? Say, s’pose -they’ll be dinner enough?” - -“What do you mean? Course they will.” - -“Then I’m glad. But you see they didn’t know I was coming; an’ Mary -Jane says I’m the ‘beatenest eater for a little girl she ever saw;’ an’ -sometimes when comp’ny comes to my grandmother’s she scolds, Mary Jane -does. ’Cause she says: ‘I have enough cooked for my own folks, but not -enough for my neighbors,’ an’ it makes her angry. An’ my grandmother -says, solemn-like: ‘Ma-ry-Ja-ne!’ an’ then Mary Jane goes in the -kitchen an’ bangs things around; an’ Mr. Tubbs laughs, an’ she gets -madder, an’--I shouldn’t like to make your cook feel that way.” - -“Don’t you be afraid! You can have all you want to eat; an’ if they -isn’t enough you can have mine, too. I ain’t ever hungry.” - -“My! Thank you. You’re a lovely, nice girl. But I wouldn’t eat it. Why -aren’t you hungry? There’s the bell!” - -Away they ran dinner-wards, and found the Judge rehearsing to his wife -the incidents of the morning, and evidently something of Steenie’s -ambition; for the lady bestowed upon the child a caress more cordial -even than usual, and called her a “dear, brave, helpful little thing.” - -There proved to be not only enough of food but to spare; and when -the meal was over Judge Courtenay retired to his office with his -secretary, while the children went into the parlor, where Steenie was -asked to tell her hostess all about her desired “riding-school,” and -what had suggested it to her. - -“It was the blacksmith made me think about it, when he shod Tito. He -said I ‘ought to;’ an’ I s’pose maybe he knows ’bout my father being -blind, an’ my grandmother an old lady that never did anything but read -books, an’ they both being so ‘helpless,’ Mr. Tubbs says. But he, Mr. -Resolved, thought I was ‘helpless,’ too; only I don’t want to be. -’Cause I’m not old nor blind, an’ I’m strong as anything. But I don’t -know very much, ’cept ’bout horses; an’ I do know ’bout them, way -through. So--well, you see--after the blacksmith talk--I thought an’ -thought--an’ thought. First off, it made me dizzy--just the thinking. -Then I wasn’t dizzy any more for being sorry--but just for glad! An’ -I hurried home fast as fast; an’ there was my father taking a nap, -’cause he doesn’t sleep good nights; an’ after supper some comp’ny -came, an’ they stayed till I went away to bed. Then this morning there -they were again; an’ they were a man an’ his clerk, or something, an’ -my grandmother an’ my father went into the library an’ shut the door, -so I didn’t have any chance to ask him. Then when I was coming here, I -thought maybe I was glad I hadn’t. ’Cause my grandmother says your Mr. -Judge is a terr’ble wise gentleman; an’ I know so too. An’ I thought -prob’ly he knew all the little girls an’ colts in Old Knollsboro; an’ -maybe they’d like to learn to ride the right way. And the blacksmith -said I’d ‘make a fortune’ showing ’em. I’d like to make it, or some -money, I mean. Any way if I could do one thing to buy beefsteaks with, -I ought to, hadn’t I? ’Cause Mr. Tubbs says, ‘The Lord only knows -how long any on us’ll eat beefsteak,’--an’ we all like it. Even my -grandmother does. It would be awful, wouldn’t it, for an old lady like -her to not have any more?” - -“Yes, my dear, it would be very bad indeed; but I hope matters are not -quite so serious as that,” answered Mrs. Courtenay, smiling. - -“Well, I don’t know, course. But Mary Jane says we’d all ‘better be -lookin’ out to earn an honest penny, those on us ’at can.’ An’ Mr., her -brother, said she ‘needn’t cast no ’flections on him, ’cause hadn’t he -got the lumbago, he’d like to know?’ So, you see, it’s just this one -straight way: Grandmother can’t, ’cause she can’t, an’ she oughtn’t -to; Papa can’t, ’cause he can’t see to do anything; Sutro can’t, ’cause -he’s just Sutro; Mr. Tubbs can’t, ’cause he’s a lumbagorer an’ a -‘reg’lar funeral-dark-sider,’ Mary Jane says; Mary Jane can’t, ’cause -her ‘hands an’ heart is full every ’durin’ minute, an’ so she tells -you;’ an’ so, after them, they isn’t anybody left but me. So I want to; -’cause I love ’em--love ’em--love ’em--every one! An’ I’m young, an’ -I can see, an’ I haven’t any lumbago, an’ I’m not just Sutro, an’ my -hands an’ heart isn’t full, and--do--you s’pose I can?” - -“My dear little girl, I have perfect faith that you can!--providing -that your people will consent,” answered Mrs. Courtenay, with the most -confident of smiles, and very shining eyes. - -“Why shouldn’t they consent? Wouldn’t they be the most gladdest they -could be? ’Cause I’d give them the money, an’ they could buy the -things.” - -“Who told you about ‘money,’ and money-earning, Steenie?” asked the -lady, somewhat curiously, wondering how a child brought up “in the -wilderness” had learned its value. - -“Why, Sutro. I asked him what it meant to be ‘ruined,’ an’ he told -me. He’s ruined, himself, he says; anyhow he’s lost his home, same -as Grandmother’ll have to lose hers; an’ he says that he had to go -to work an’ earn money, an’ that was why he didn’t ‘starve to death, -_en verdad_!’ I should think it would be dreadful to starve to death, -shouldn’t you?” - -“I certainly should.” - -“You see Sutro--I don’t know ’xactly how it was. But when I was as -little as little, my father told Sutro ’at if he’d tend to me an’ not -let anything bad ever happen to me, he’d pay Sutro money. Wages, it’s -called. So they did it; an’ Sutro was my body-servant forever after -that. Papa paid him every month, ’cause it wasn’t the Plunkett man’s -money at all. An’ Sutro has saved it. An’ I don’t know. He showed me -most of it ’at he hadn’t spended; an’ it does seem funny that folks’ll -give you food an’ clothes an’ things just for it; but he says yes. An’ -if I earn, an’ he helps me, don’t you see? Oh, I hope they will let me, -don’t you?” - -“I--hardly know. I wish you to be happy with all my heart; and so I -mean that you shall succeed--if they are willing. But they are a proud -family,--the very leading family of Old Knollsboro; and they may feel -it--well, not just the thing for the little daughter of the house to -teach even a ‘riding-school.’ But we’ll see. By the way, where would -you like to hold your school? Tell me all that you have thought about -it, please.” - -“Why, on your race-course. Why not?” asked Steenie, brightly and -innocently. - -“Why, Steenie Calthorp! My papa’s race-track is my papa’s! He won’t let -anybody, ’cept them he invites, go on it, not once at all. He says it’s -private, for his own ’musement, an’ if folks want tracks let ’em have -their own. He wouldn’t let other little girls, ’cept you an’ me, ride -their ponies there, ever; would he, Mama?” - -“I cannot answer for another, even your father, my dear. But I think -that some fitting place could be found,” replied the mother, quietly. - -Steenie looked up quickly. Her big blue eyes were filled with -astonishment, and a pink flush stole deeper and deeper into her pretty -face. Her native instinct, the instinct of a gentlewoman, told her that -she had blundered in some way, yet she could not see how. If Judge -Courtenay was her friend,--why, he was!--and that was the end of it. -Why should he draw the line anywhere? - -“Please, Mrs. Courtenay, was I ’truding then? Grandmother said I was -never to do that. She said I had lived in a beau-tiful big, big place -like Santa Felisa, an’ I was used to being mistress of everything; but -I was to ’member that here, in this little bit o’ Old Knollsboro, I was -only a little bit o’ girl. But if the dear Judge doesn’t want me to -use his course, why I can find a place, somewhere, big enough. I guess -maybe the blacksmith can tell me. He was a very nice man, too.” - -Mrs. Courtenay watched the troubled little face grow bright and sunny -again, and then she sent the children out to play; after which an -elegant carriage was brought round, and a groom in livery assisted the -lady into it, and lifted Beatrice to a place beside her. But Steenie -needed no assistance, and was quite contented when the Judge took -the empty seat next her, and she heard the order given, “To Madam -Calthorp’s, High Street.” - -It was a gay and happy party, and they carried their own good cheer -with them into the care-shadowed home which they entered,--the -greetings of the elders being even more cordial and sympathetic than -ever, could that have seemed possible. - -Nothing, not even heart-break, could make Madam Calthorp other than the -noble, gracious woman she had always been; and no sign of the burden -she was bearing was permitted to inflict itself upon her guests. Yet -even her self-reliant spirit gained fresh courage from the support of -these friends whom she held in such high esteem; and she was delicately -forced to remember that the Judge would be honored if she would make -use of him in any way. - -“Yes, Steenie, show Beatrice anything. And you will find some roses -in the garden, the sort her mother likes. Thank you; but, Judge, such -things are usually very simple. I have had one of the bank men here -over night. There is nothing left, absolutely, beyond my trifling -amount of real estate. I shall put this house on the market, and -dispose of it as speedily as possible. I have already written to accept -an offer which I had for the little farm; and--that is all. If you hear -of a small cottage anywhere in town, that is not in an objectionable -neighborhood, will you kindly let me know? And now--let us talk about -your horses. I’m sure that Daniel will enjoy a description of them. He -is quite a horse-lover, though not like Steenie--all horse! Did you -ever know a taste so marked? It amounts almost to a passion with her; -due to her training at Santa Felisa, I suppose. Well, it has made her -a perfectly healthy and wonderfully happy child. I am grateful to the -odd rearing for that much, at least.” - -“And for much more!--that is, you may be!” returned the Judge, -impulsively. His heart was still glowing warmly with thoughts of -Steenie’s brave desire, and the words escaped him almost unconsciously. - -“Indeed! How so? I fear that even her last intercourse with the equine -race is about over for poor little Steenie.” - -“It should not be. No, no; it must not be!--that would be a crime. -Let me tell you, please,” and the gentleman described, far more -minutely and eloquently than the little girl had done, her marvellous -influence over Diablo, and her instruction of himself. He concluded -enthusiastically: “It is her gift--Heaven-sent! She is the best friend -the horse ever had, I believe. And that child’s beneficent influence -is destined to work a complete revolution, hereabouts, in the future -treatment of the noble animals. It is as if she had a magical power of -entering into their very feelings, inclinations, joys, and sufferings. -I never witnessed anything like it! Yet the only explanation she can -give is: ‘It isn’t anything I do. I don’t know how to explain it--only -I just love them so!’ My dear Madam, your grandchild is a phenomenon. -Better than that--she is the bravest, noblest little creature who ever -lived.” - -“Judge, Judge! You are too enthusiastic, and too kind!” answered -Steenie’s amazed grandmother. - -“Enthusiastic, perhaps; but I could not be too kind to a child like -that. It is an honor to serve her. She has taught me, not only what -a fool I have been about horses, but how to meet trouble, disaster. -Listen to this: here is her idea--that baby’s!” - -Launched upon his subject, Judge Courtenay poured out the whole story. -Steenie’s half-formed plans had taken full shape and detail under the -consideration of his own maturer mind, and not only this, but he had -actually decided, mentally, upon the children to be selected for her -first pupils. He could not see one good reason why the project was -not wholly feasible, with Sutro and himself to “back” it with age and -experience. - -“She shall have the course at Rookwood for ordinary weather; and I will -have a great building erected for stormy days. I know several persons -who have valuable colts, and they will gladly avail themselves of her -gentle method of ‘breaking in.’ They shall pay her well, too! The -school terms we will regulate by those of city riding-schools; and she -shall have the use of as many of my horses as is necessary, besides her -own Tito. That old Sutro is just the fellow to assist; and my grooms -shall do the rough work.” - -“Pardon me, Judge, but it appears to me as if this were to be your -school,--not my little daughter’s!” exclaimed Mr. Calthorp, smilingly. - -“All right--all right! Make it so, then! Let it be my institution, and -she my salaried instructor. Why not? That is an improvement upon the -original plan,--decidedly an improvement. People will be less inclined -to shirk their tuition fees to me, a grim old lawyer, maybe, than to -her. Yet I think she would never lose a penny. How could she,--if men -and women are human?” - -Mrs. Courtenay had been observing their hostess, and interrupted, -gently: “My dear, you are taking for granted the consent of Steenie’s -guardians. However, I trust it will not be wanting.” The speaker -noticed, regretfully, that the children had returned, and that the -little subject of the discussion was standing on the threshold of -the room, her lithe young body eagerly poised and her eyes intently -watching her grandmother’s face for the answer forthcoming, which was -made speedily and courteously, but it struck upon Steenie’s heart with -intolerable cruelty. - -“Thank you, cordially, my dear friend. Your generous kindness is -fully appreciated--fully. But I have already reached a more practical -decision,--one which will put more money, even, into Steenie’s pocket -than this chimerical, if unselfish scheme of hers could ever do. We -will sell Tito. Do you know of a purchaser?” - -In the silence which followed this unexpected suggestion, Steenie heard -her own heart beat. Then she bounded into the centre of the room, white -with fear and indignation. - -“Grandmother! Sell--my--Tito!” - -“Yes, darling. We can no longer afford to keep him.” - -“You mustn’t! You mustn’t! It would break his very heart! I’d rather -you’d sell me!” - - - - -CHAPTER XIV. - - -[Illustration: “POOR MR. TUBBS.”] - -For a time nobody said anything more. Then Madam Calthorp resumed, but -in a very kindly and sympathetic tone: “Yes, my darling, we can no -longer indulge in any luxury.” - -Steenie found courage to speak again. “I don’t know what that is. But -Tito isn’t a ‘luxury,’ is he? He’s just a dear, darling little horse!” - -“Which, under our changed circumstances, means that he is a luxury, as -well.” - -“You mustn’t! You shall not! You dare not! He’s mine--mine--mine!” - -“Steenie!” said the father, in a pained voice, and opening his lips for -the first time. - -The child flew to him in a passion of tears. “She can’t--she--she--He’s -folks! He can’t be sold. It would--break--his very--heart!” - -Touched by the distress of her little friend, Beatrice grew angry and -resentful also, and darted to her own father, who put his arm about -her and kissed her, glad of anything upon which to vent his emotion; -for it must be owned that the big, wise man was almost as vexed and -uncomfortable as the two children were. - -Mrs. Courtenay walked over to the bay-window and examined an album of -etchings, trying, but failing, to appear at ease. To all present it was -a very unpleasant scene. - -Yet there was no disputing the plain common-sense of Madam Calthorp’s -decision, who, it is also true, had no real conception of the strength -of the bond between the child and her beloved four-footed friend, her -only playmate during all her little life. - -Steenie had parted from Tito at Santa Felisa, bravely and cheerfully as -she could, “for Papa’s sake;” but she had believed it to be a parting -for a time, merely. She had then full faith in the cure of her father’s -blindness, which was to be effected by some unknown physician in an -equally unknown “East;” and she had looked forward to a joyful return -and reunion, when everything and everybody was to be even happier than -before. - -Now she knew better what “trouble” meant; and to part with Tito forever -seemed like cutting her own heart in two. - -“Steenie, my granddaughter! Do not forget that there are others -present to whom an exhibition of domestic misunderstanding must be -most disagreeable. You may take the basket of sea-shells into the -dining-room, if you like, and show them to Beatrice.” - -“I don’t care about sea-shells, ma’am,” responded Beatrice, with what -she considered great politeness. - -“An’--an’--please ’xcuse me!” said Steenie, tremulously, and ran out of -the house, stableward, faster than even her fleet feet had ever sped -before. - -Mrs. Courtenay rose, “I think, Judge, that it is really time we should -go. I have another call to make, and it is growing late. I hope, dear -madam, that you are satisfied with Steenie’s progress under Miss Allen. -She tells me that the little thing is very bright at her studies.” - -“Thank you; fully satisfied. Yes, I think, I am sure that our little -girl has intelligence; only her instruction has heretofore been so -deficient,--in every way. I trust you will pardon her rudeness, and -expect better things of her by-and-by. She has been a trifle spoiled, -I fear. However, I believe that she will make rapid advancement after -she is once well started. And pray do not think, Judge, that because I -found your ‘riding-school’ too big a venture for a child not yet eleven -to undertake, that I do not estimate your own unselfish motive most -highly. It simply--could not be.” Madam Calthorp’s smile as she said -this was very bright and very proud. - -“That’s it! It’s the miserable Calthorp pride that is at the bottom -of it!” muttered the Judge, as he rode away. “The father had more -sense; he saw no objection to our idea any more than I do, or any other -sensible person could. It is an original scheme, of course; but where -would the world be if it were not for original people now and then? The -child has a talent--a genius--in a unique line. Well, then, why not -develop it,--same as music, art, or any other great gift? And she’d be -perfectly safe,--I’d see to that; they must have known it.” - -“Doubtless they did; and I know something else.” - -“What’s that?”--a trifle shortly. It does not improve the temper of -most people to have their generosity declined, and the Judge was no -exception to the rule. - -“That you will buy Tito, if he must be sold, and keep him at Rookwood -for his own little mistress.” - -“Or for me, Mama, maybe.” - -“No, dear Beatrice, for Steenie. Surely you do not wish to take her -beloved horse away from her?” - -“No, course I don’t; but, you see, I thought maybe that old Madam lady -would say she couldn’t have him. ’Cause she ’peared to me’s if she -liked to be kind of mis’able an’ give up things. Same’s I don’t.” - -“Beatrice!” - -“The child is right. Madam Calthorp is a fine woman, but she is as -proud as Lucifer. He had to tumble, and she will, or I’m mightily -mistaken. It takes a very noble nature to accept favors graciously; -and she had an idea that I was conferring, or trying to confer, a -favor, which I was not at all. I think it would be the best thing -ever happened in this locality, and to the dumb beasts in it, if that -blessed, loving little thing could have a chance to preach to us in -her innocent way. I mean she shall yet, too! And I suppose that to have -a little girl earn anything towards the family support was a bitter -motion, also.” - -“The most bitter, I think, husband. However, we can do nothing more. -But we must have Steenie at Rookwood as much as possible. If one is -bound to be kind and helpful one can generally find a way, though not -always the way first chosen. Remember that, Beatrice, and be watchful -for Steenie’s happiness.” - -“Yes, Mama, I think somebody ought to watch it; ’cause herself’s bein’ -comf’table is the last thing she cares about.” - -“That’s right, my darling,” said the mother, fondly, as she alighted -to pay her second call, and thinking very tenderly of the other little -girl who had never known the sweetness of a mother’s commendation. - -Meanwhile, at the house in High Street, a few earnest words had been -said by blind Daniel Calthorp, which touched, if they did not convince, -the proud heart of its mistress. - -“The scheme is not as wild as it seems, dear mother. If you could see -my darling among her friends, the horses, you would understand.” - -“But to have it said that a child--a little girl-child--is our -maintenance! Daniel, is it not absurd? Besides, could she actually earn -enough to amount to anything?” - -“I think so. However, we will not discuss further to-night,--perhaps -not at all. Only, if you think it would be difficult for you to accept -aid from the hand of a child, what do you think it is for me--a man? -My blindness was not of my own choosing; and Steenie’s talent has not -been given to her for nothing. Do you remember what my father used to -say? ‘God never shuts one door but He opens another.’ The doors seem to -be pretty fast closed on every side our lives, just now, Mother. Was -this--one of His opening? Let us find out that; and--I’ll go to Steenie -now.” - -“You need not. She comes here to you,” and, despite her decision, which -had made her seem so “hard” and stern to her little granddaughter, it -was a very proud and loving glance which rested upon the now dejected -face of the household darling. “Come here, my little one. I have -something to say to you.” - -Steenie obeyed; but she did not raise her eyes from the floor, and -her small hands were clinched tight together,--in a habit she had -adopted to help “keep the tears back.” She expected a reprimand -for her rudeness, and she anticipated it. “I came back--’cause--my -father says--no matter--I mustn’t never--be anything but nice--as -nice--to you. I didn’t mean you--Grandmother; not you--yourself. I--I -only--Tito--” - -“Kiss me, Steenie. I understand you fully. I have quite forgiven -anything that there is to forgive. I should have broken the sad news -to you more gently if I could, but you happened to overhear it. What -I want to tell you, now, dear, is that I think you are the bravest, -dearest child I ever knew. It was a very kind desire of yours to -help us in the only way which was natural to your peculiar life and -training; but what would do in the far West would hardly answer here in -Old Knollsboro. However, you still have an opportunity to be brave and -kind. I have decided--I trust that your father agrees with me--that the -first sacrifice demanded of you is--Tito. It is painful to me to ask -it; but it is right. I hope you will meet this trial in the same spirit -which you displayed in this other impracticable scheme. May I depend -upon you, my darling?” - -A sob that shook her whole sturdy little body welled up and broke from -Steenie’s lips; and though the great tears now rolled over the round -cheeks her blue eyes were raised steadfastly and her dainty mouth -forced itself into a smile, so brave and determined, yet so pitiful, -that it pierced Madam Calthorp’s heart like a knife. - -With an impulse foreign to her self-controlled nature she caught her -grandchild to her heart, and bent her white head upon the brown curls, -while a sympathetic sob escaped her own lips. This was the first actual -taste of the poverty which had befallen her household, and she found it -bitter indeed. - -But from that moment, strange as it seemed to Steenie’s own self, she -loved her grandmother as she had not done before, and felt so sorry for -her that personal grief was almost forgotten. - -“Now,” said Madam, lifting her head,--“now, what is to be done, -I want done quickly; to me waiting and suspense are intolerable. -We know that we must leave this house; let us leave it as soon as -possible. To-morrow I will advertise it for sale, and hope for a -speedy purchaser. Fortunately, High-Street property is rarely offered, -and there is always a greater demand than supply. Hark! Is that the -supper-bell?” - -“Yes,’m. Come. Papa, dear, I’m hungry, anyhow. And I gave Tito heaps -and heaps. But I think you’ll have to speak to Sutro. He didn’t--he -didn’t behave very nice. But he--felt--pretty mis’able, an’--Why, Mr. -Tubbs!” - -Mr. Tubbs, indeed! Never within Madam Calthorp’s memory had that worthy -“professor” entered her presence in such a condition as this. His hair -looked as if it had never been combed; his spectacles were broken and -dangling from his neck, instead of reposing respectably upon his bald -forehead; his coat was torn and covered with bits of hay; and--must -the truth be owned?--one pale gray eye was bruised and half-hidden by -the rapidly swelling flesh which surrounded it; worst indignity of -all, he was being marched into the dining-room by Mary Jane’s forcible -grip upon his shoulder, and it was her disgusted voice which called -attention to his damaged condition. - -“Yis! I should say so! ‘Mis-ter Tubbs!’ Here he is! A wolf in sheep’s -clothin’! Him a Methodist an’ a class-leader! Look at him! Drink him -in! He ain’t nobody but my brother--oh, oh, oh!” - -“Resolved! Mary Jane! Explain this matter at once. What has happened?” - -“Happened, ma’am? Nothin’ but a--fight! A reg’lar, school-bubby actin’ -up! It’s them two old simpletons, Sutro an’ Resolved. They’ve always -wrangled an’ jangled ever sence they fust sot eyes on one another. But -I’ve managed ter keep ’em from fisticuffin’ up till now. An’ him my -only brother! A shinin’ light in the church, he is! Wait till I get my -dishes washed, an’ I’ll step down ter Presidin’ Elder Boutwell’s, an’ -let him hear what kind o’ sperritooal goin’s on we have down this way!” - -“But why should you and Sutro Vives quarrel, Resolved? What provocation -did he give you?” asked Mr. Calthorp, anxiously. - -“Nothin’ in the world! It’s my poor, sinful old brother here, that’s -done all the prov-ockin’! A tellin’ that poor heathen old Catholic -that they wasn’t no use fer him here, no more. An’ no bread ter fill -the mouths o’ our own household, let alone Mexicers. When he knowed -well enough ’t I’d jest done my reg’lar bakin’, an’ no beautifuller -never come out o’ that oven this hull summer, let alone more. An’ then -pilin’ it on top o’ that, how if it hadn’t a be’n fer him--Sutry--’at -Steenie needn’t ’a’ gin up her pony! Don’t wonder old feller was -mad; an’ fust he knowed Resolved got a snap-word back--an’ then! -Well, you know, ma’am, better ’n I kin tell ye, how quer’ls grows. -Bad tempers--sass-hatefulness--candles hid--no light shinin’--an’ -then--blows! Yis, ma’am,--blows!” - -“Mary Jane! Those two old men!” - -“Nobody elset. I don’t wonder ye’re dumberfoun’, I was myself. But -fust whack I heered out I hurried an’ there they was! Reg’lar rough -an’ tumble, right in the hay-mow, afore Teety pony’s own eyes; an’ I -declar’, if that knowin’ critter didn’t actilly ’pear ter be laughin’. -An’ ’shamed I am ter have lived ter this day! But--so much fer the -Methodist doctrine! No, ma’am, nobody needn’t tell me ’at anything -short o’ full ’mersion ’ll ever wash the wickedness out o’ poor humans -like Resolved Tubbs! No, ma’am, ye needn’t.” - -As Madam Calthorp had never “told” anything of the sort, she could -afford to smile; and lamentable as the silly affair was, it yet, as a -previous “quer’l” had done, served to divert the thoughts of the family -from more serious troubles. - -“Poor Mr. Tubbs! Naughty Mr. Tubbs! You--look--so funny!” cried -Steenie, laughing. “Did my bad, darling old Sutro-boy hurt your -lumbago?” And carried away by a mental picture of the strange conflict, -she danced about the victim of his own valor in a manner which -provoked his smiles, even if it did his anger, also. - -“Well--well--hesh up, can’t ye? I know--I know as well as anybody ’t -I’d oughter be ashamed; but--I--but--I--I got that riled I clean fergot -everything. Hm-m. The furrin’ vagabones! A tellin’--ME--’t I’d oughter -go ter work an’ do sunthin’ ter help the fambly! ’S if I wasn’t a -doin’ all a mortal man could, now! An’ a sayin’ ’t he’d show me! He’d -let ever’body know ’at where he gin his heart’s love thar he gin his -mis’able airthly possessions, as well. He’d show! That tantalizin’ -like, I felt I’d like ter ’nihilate him. I couldn’t help it. An’ if I -did take my poor mites o’ savin’s--how fur would it go towards keepin’ -a hull fambly, an’ heathen furriners an’ circus horses, ter boot,--I’d -like ter know?” - -“No matter, Tubbs. I am profoundly sorry that you should have -quarrelled with anybody on our account, least of all with a poor, -dependent old man like the caballero. I agree with Mary Jane, that one -who has enjoyed the privileges which you have, here in the East, should -have been too wise for any such trumpery nonsense; and I trust that -you will duly apologize to Sutro Vives, and make him forget, if it is -possible, your unkind words about his being a burden upon us. Your zeal -on our behalf is appreciated; but please consult me before you give -expression to it in the future. Enough of this. Serve supper, please, -Mary Jane.” - -Mr. Tubbs escaped to his own apartment, a very astonished and -self-disgusted old man. If anybody had prophesied to him such an utter -collapse of Christian conduct, he would have scouted the suggestion -with scorn. But here was the stubborn fact: he, Resolved Tubbs, a -“perfessor an’ a beakin light, have gone and buried my candle under the -bushel! Jest fer what?” - -Mary Jane could have told him in one word what it took him many hours -of Bible-reading and self-examination to find out. “Jealousy,” Mr. -Tubbs, jealousy, the meanest, most obdurate sin that ever gets into a -human soul, old or young, to twist it out of shape. - -“Well--I’m glad of that! ’Cause I’m hungry. I always am, and I didn’t -know, first off, whether I’d ought to stay at Mrs. Courtenay’s; but -they said ‘yes,’ an’ I had a lovely time. Papa, aren’t rooks funny? -They’re English, imported, the Judge says, and they’re dozens an’ -bushels an’ more, in those splendid great trees in the park. That’s -what makes ’em call it Rookwood. An’ now, soon’s I’ve finished, I’m -goin’ to find my poor blessed Sutro Vives. He’s been naughty, course, -same’s Mr. Resolved has. Just like they were little boys, isn’t it? But -he mustn’t stay naughty. I couldn’t ’low that, could I, Papa? ’Cause -he’s very, very good ’most always, an’ I hope Mary Jane will give him -a nice supper. Can she, Grandmother? ’Cause it must be terr’ble to -be told not to eat. I think--I think--I could do ’most anything else -better than not eat.” - -“I think you could, sweetheart! But hunger at your age is both natural -and desirable. You are growing very fast. I can feel that even if I -cannot see it,” responded Mr. Calthorp, caressing the curly head which -rested for a moment against his shoulder. - -“And when I find Sutro, I’ll make him ’pologize to you, Grandmother; -’cause he oughtn’t to fight at your house, anyhow, no matter if he does -sometimes at San’ Felisa. I s’pose he’s over his anger by this time, -don’t you? I can’t bear to see folks angry; it makes me shivery all -inside, and if he isn’t I’d rather wait.” - -“I think you are safe, my dear; and go at once. I would not have the -poor old fellow feel himself an intruder, now, if I could help it. I -fear the plain-spoken Tubbs was not very careful of his remarks.” - -Steenie departed; and it was quite lamp-lighting time before she -returned, with a very troubled face. “I cannot find my Sutro anywhere. -I’ve looked an’ looked, an’ called--called--called--low an’ loud--but -he isn’t anywhere at all. And his blanket that he keeps in the hay to -take his siesta on is gone, too. What do you s’pose, Papa?” - -“That he probably has gone somewhere to walk off his anger and -mortification; and that he will soon be back.” - -“It would be awful mis’able if he didn’t come back at all, wouldn’t it?” - -“Yes; too miserable to contemplate for a moment. Come, my darling, and -sing to me for a little while; then, most likely, he will return.” - -But, at that very moment, a solitary old man, in curious attire, and -with a gay Navajo blanket folded over his shoulder, was making his way -through the gathering twilight toward Rookwood. His head was bowed, and -his face hidden by his wide sombrero, and he moved slowly as one whose -footsteps are hindered by a heavy heart. - -A pathetic figure which the growing gloom receives and hides, the -humblest, and the noblest, perhaps, of all those whose hearts have been -touched by the love of the child Steenie, he passes thus out of the -story of her life at Old Knollsboro. - - - - -CHAPTER XV. - - -[Illustration: MR. TUBBS AND STEENIE.] - -Mr. Tubbs sat with his spectacles in place, his Bible on his knee; -and Steenie, peering in at the kitchen-door and seeing it otherwise -deserted, would speedily have retreated, had she been allowed. But an -outrageous groan from Resolved arrested her flight, and awoke her ready -sympathy. - -“Is it so bad, poor dear? Is it worser ’n usual?” - -“Oh! Ah-h-h!” That sigh appeared to have arisen in the sigher’s very -feet, it was so long drawn out and so unutterably doleful. “To think -I’d a lived ter see this day! Man an’ boy, forty odd years, have I been -uset ter settin’ beside this very fire an’ a peroosin’ o’ Scripters by -this very winder; an’ now--My-soul-I-declare,--life ain’t wuth livin’!” - -“Oh, pooh! You only feel hypoey, Mary Jane says. Try an’ not think -’bout troubles so much, please. An’ I do think, like she does, ’at it’s -the queerest thing your hypoey comes whenever they’s such a lot to do, -isn’t it? I know you can’t help it, an’ it must make you feel dreadful -bad not to be able to help more; but do try an’ not mind it, there’s a -dear!” - -“I’ll try; but I ain’t the man I uset ter was. I’ve got the neuraligy -in my head, an’ the dyspepsy in my stummick, an’ the lumbago in my -back, an’ I ain’t a good deal well. You know it, don’t ye, Steenie? -Ye’re sorry fer the old man, ain’t ye?” - -“Why, ye-es. But I’m lots sorrier for all the rest of the folks. My -father says it’s a’most more than Grandmother can bear, this leaving -her old home; but _she_ doesn’t go ‘Oh!’ and ‘Ah-h!’ over it. She just -shuts her lips tight, an’ goes hard to work; an’ I guess that’s what -you’d better do, dear Mr. Tubbs. It seems to help her, an’ maybe it -will you. Why, she’s packed every one o’ her ‘precious books,’ all her -own self, without nobody touching to help her; an’ Mary Jane says it’s -the best thing she could have done.” - -“Some folks hain’t no fine feelin’s, Steenie. Mary Jane hain’t,--I -grieve ter say it.” - -“What makes you, then?” - -“Because--be-cause, I tell ye! Here they ain’t nobody payin’ no -’tention ter me; ner thinkin’ o’ my--’motions, a tearin’ myself up by -the ruts, this ’ere way; an’ jest a goin’ on as if this break-up wasn’t -nothin’.” - -“Well. ’Xcuse me, but I don’t see as it is to--you. ’Cause it wasn’t -your house, see? An’ the little new one is cuter than cute! It’s as -cunning as a doll-house. An’ Mary Jane says, ‘Make the best on ’t, -honey, an’ thank the Lord it’s in a decent neighborhood!’ An’ I’m going -to do it. Mary Jane Tubbs is a real Christian, my father says.” - -“Yer ‘father says’--‘father says’--tacked onter the end o’ every verse! -Yer father don’t know ever’thing!” - -“He does, too, Resolved Tubbs!--Mister, I mean. Everybody says ’at -he’s the best man in the world! He can’t see a single thing, yet he’s -going to work an’ try an’ write down, all in the dark, all ’at he knows -’bout managing a great rancho; an’ Judge Courtenay says ’at he’ll get -it copied out ‘fair an’ square,’ an’ then printed; an’ the world’ll -have to see that it takes ‘more ’n blindness to kill a brave man,’--so -there! And he doesn’t groan, either. Since he’s thought ’bout this -book business he’s just as jolly as he used to be, an’ never lets -Grandmother nor me nor anybody see if he feels bad--not once! S’posin’ -he got the hypo, too! Wouldn’t Grandmother an’ Mary Jane an’ me have a -terr’ble time, then?” - -“Hm-m. I don’t see where Mary Jane’s sech a great Christian! -My-soul-I-declare! I hain’t seen her tetch her Bible once sence we -begun ter tear up.” - -“That’s it! That’s just it! My father says ’at she has its teachings -so deep down inside her ’at she can’t forget them, an’ doesn’t -need to read ’em so much. He says her keeping the meals regular -an’ well-cooked, an’ the house sun-shiny an’ clean, an’ herself -good-tempered through all her hard work, has taught him a beautiful -lesson. Think of it! Just Mary Jane teaching my papa! Anyhow, I love -her, an’ I came to bid her good-by. ’Cause I’m off to Rookwood an’ -lessons an’ fun, now! Where is she? Do you know?” - -“No, ner keer; an’ you’re a ungrateful little girl. Thar I sot, all -yisterday arternoon, a crackin’ butternuts an’ pickin’ the meats fer -ye--an’ ye never! Well, well; it’s a hard kind o’ world.” - -“_Puss-ley!_ Do shet up, an’ git up an’ take a holt o’ some kind o’ -job, brother Resolved! You’re enough ter make a critter backslide, a -lookin’ at yer limpsey-lumpsey laziness!” - -“Thar! Thar Steenie Calthorp! Ye hear her? That’s yer fine Ch--” - -“Please don’t quarrel, dear folks! Don’t! An’ it isn’t so bad, is it? -We’ll all be so cosey an’ cunning in the little new house. Good-by, -Mary Jane. Dear, dear Mary Jane! I love you! You’re so lively an’ kind, -an’ fly-about-y! You make everybody feel so good, dear Mary Jane! -Good-by.” - -At the door the child paused; her conscience upbraided her for -manifesting the partiality she could not help feeling, and with a -sudden dash across the room, she caught Mr. Tubbs’s neck in her arms -and gave him a hearty kiss. Then she darted out again, and in a moment -was speeding down the street toward Rookwood, where she still went -every day, but now quite by herself. Tito had for some weeks been -domiciled in Judge Courtenay’s roomy stables, and his little mistress -saw him daily. Almost daily, also, she had a long ride on his back, -so that she scarcely missed him from the High-Street home; and thus -one trouble which had seemed unendurable in prospect became quite the -contrary in reality. - -“Because, you see, Mary Jane, they isn’t any nice cunning little barn -to keep him in at the new cottage, so I’m glad after all.” - -“Yis, dearie; an’ so you’ll find out, long’s you live. Trouble is a -great hand ter stan’ a ways off an’ make up faces at ye: an’ ye feel’s -if ye couldn’t endure it, no way. But jest you pluck up spunk ever’ -time, an’ march straight up ter the old thing, and there,--lo! an’ -behold!--she’s a grinnin’ an’ a smilin’ as if she’s the best friend -you’ve got. An’ most the times she is. Folks ’at don’t have no real -trouble ter git along with, don’t gen’ally amount ter shucks. Life -ain’t all catnip; an’ it hain’t meant ter be. An’ ye better, by far, -bear the yoke in yer youth ’an in yer old age.” - -“Like Mr. Resolved? He’s bearing it now, isn’t he, in his old age? Is -that what you mean?” - -“Not by a jug-full! He ain’t a bearin’--nothin’; he’s squat right down -under it, an’ a lettin’ it squash all the marrer o’ religion out o’ his -poor old bones. Foolish brother Resolved! I’ve be’n a bolsterin’ an’ -a highsterin’ him up all my life, an’ I ’spect I’ll have ter continner -on ter the end. No matter; I didn’t have the choosin’ o’ my own trials -er I wouldn’t a chose that kind o’ relations. An’ the good Lord is a -lookin’ out fer poor Mary Jane; so why should she bother ter look out -fer herself?” - -Even the sorrow of losing Sutro had taken on a softer aspect when, -after his first night’s absence, Steenie learned from Judge Courtenay -that the old caballero had been at Rookwood just at nightfall, had -remained long enough to “transact some business” with himself, and then -had started on a late train across the continent to Santa Felisa. The -Judge had also given her Sutro’s last loving message:-- - -“Tell, _mi niña_, that her love has made old Sutro Vives a better man. -That he could not stay to be a burden to anybody; that he’ll be well -and happy in the spot where he was born; and that he goes to make his -last home on his own property of Santa Trinidad. _Caramba!_ He will -rest well, with old Californian soil for his bed, and Californian -sunshine for his blanket. Thou wilt say to her these words, Señor Juez?” - -When the gentleman answered warmly: “I will do everything I can for -your ‘Little Lady of the Horse,’ Señor Vives; I will carry out your -instructions to the letter,” Sutro murmured: “Ten thousand thanks, most -generous. _Gracias a Dios!_ I shall see San’ Felis once more!” and -departed. - -But all this was sometime past; and as Steenie went now to Rookwood, -the brilliant autumn leaves were beginning to fade on the paths, and -the Michaelmas daisies bloomed thickly by the roadside. She passed -along, a gay, cheerful, loving little maiden, feeling that the world -held but one trouble for her now, and that one so far beyond her power -to remove, that she was trying to “march straight up to it,” and see if -it would smile at her, as Mary Jane had said. - -The trouble has probably been foreseen; and Judge Courtenay put it into -words for her as she danced up to the porch where he was pacing, and -swept him a grave, graceful Spanish “courtesy,” that she had learned -“at home” from dark-eyed Suzan´. - -“Good-morning, good-morning, Miss Sunbeam! You look as bright as if we -elder people were not worrying our heads off this minute! So when does -the ‘flitting’ occur? The removal from High Street to that miserable -cottage?” - -“To-morrow, sir, thank you! An’, please ’xcuse me, but it isn’t -mis’able. It’s as pretty as it can be, I think.” - -“And ‘I think’ settles it, eh? Well, well; you ought to thank Heaven -for your temperament! Now if I only had it, I shouldn’t be feeling this -minute angry enough to ‘bite a ten-penny nail in two.’” - -Down sat the funny gentleman in the big Plymouth rocker, and opened -his arms to “his other little girl,” who nestled in them quite as -confidently and almost as lovingly as Beatrice would have done. “Why, -sir, whatever can be the matter to make _you_--look cross?” - -“I look it, too, do I?--as well as feel it. Hm-m. Thank you. Children, -et cetera,--truth, you know. First reason, please: I’m deserted. My -wife and daughter are busy with all these guests, and I’ve had to -retreat to the schoolroom for a bit of quiet.” - -“Never mind. They have to be p’lite, I s’pose. My grandmother -says ’at folks who live in high stations, like you do, owes great -’sponsibilities to s’ciety an’ its demandings.” - -“Your grandmother is an oracle! She’s making you one. But draw up that -other chair and hear me grumble; it does me good to express myself to -somebody. My wife says that I cannot keep anything, save clients’ -business, to myself. Hm-m. What do you think of that?” - -“I s’pose she knows, prob’ly. But am I to have no lessons?” - -“No. Not unless you are suffering to rattle off: ‘I have been, thou -hast been or you have been, he has been,’--and all the rest of it. -Seems to me I heard you say, yesterday, that you thought grammar was -not very ‘exciting,’ eh?” - -“Oh! no, sir, it isn’t! And if I could have a holiday, maybe Diablo -could have another waltzing lesson, couldn’t he? He’s such a graceful, -teachable horse, I love him!” - -“So do I, thanks to your wise interpretation of his character. But -Diablo isn’t in today’s programme. And I’m greatly disturbed, absurdly -disturbed, for such a foolish cause. However, I cannot help it, cannot -throw it off.” - -“Can I help it? I wish I could! What is the thing ’at disturbs you?” - -“The afternoon’s race.” - -“Why--what? I thought everything was all fixed. I hope it isn’t given -up, is it?” - -“Not yet. Nor do I like to postpone it; but--There comes John with a -telegram. I hope a favorable one.” - -The race referred to was a proposed contest for supremacy to be held at -the “private track” of Rookwood, between the Courtenay horses and those -of neighboring county magnates. As has been said before, that part of -the state was famous for its fine stock; and these millionnaire owners -of world-renowned animals spared no expense in the indulgence of their -equine “hobby,” or the furtherance of their ambition to lead in the -matter of speed and purity of breed. - -Steenie had been deeply interested in the preparations, and her heart -beat in sympathy with a distress she had now learned was connected with -the day’s event. - -“Pshaw! It’s too bad! Too contemptibly pitiful and mean! I can’t get -the other jockey, either!” exclaimed the Judge, thrusting the yellow -missive behind him, and striding up and down the school-room porch. - -Steenie waited but a moment, then she stole to his side, slipped her -warm little hand into his great palm, and made an absurd attempt with -her own shorter limbs to equal the pace of her perplexed friend. - -“Hm-m. You good little thing! But even your encouragement can’t help me -now.” - -“Would you just as lief tell me what it is? Maybe I could help, maybe. -I’m awful anxious to, ’cause, ’cause--you’re so good to me an’ every -single body. Maybe I can.” - -“I wish you could! If you were a boy! Hm-m. No use. Yet it is so trying -to be balked by a little thing like that!” - -“Like what, sir?” - -“Oh, you persistent little monkey! There--you know I mean that for -a compliment! Come then, sit you down and hear an old simpleton’s -trouble, then laugh at him as you laugh at all annoyance.” - -“But not folks. Dear Judge Courtenay, I don’t mean to laugh at folks.” - -“You don’t! Listen. You know Lady Trix?” - -“Course.” - -“You know she’s fast, don’t you?” - -“Faster ’n lightning!” - -“Pretty near, I declare. Well, you know, also, that boy Tretter who was -going to ride her against Doctor Gerould’s Mordaunt?” - -“Yes. Well?” - -“Anything but well! That imp has gone and tumbled off a wood-shed roof, -playing circus, and broke his leg.” - -“Oh, my! Poor Tretter!” - -“Poor Tretter? Poor Courtenay! Lady Trix was never ridden by anybody -else, at any such time as this. He was just right weight, and had a -good head,--or I thought that he had till this performance.” - -“But I s’pose he couldn’t help it.” - -“Couldn’t help it? What did he get up there for, any way? I’d have -given him a thousand dollars to stay off that roof,--or at least to -postpone the leg-break for another twenty-four hours.” - -Steenie gazed at her old friend’s face in astonishment; then her own -countenance flushed. “Oh, I said maybe I could help you, and I can--I -can!” - -“What? Do you know any jockey round here, worth a cent? One that Trix -will bear?” asked the other, eagerly. - -“No, sir. I ain’t ’quainted with any jockeys in Old Knollsboro; but -_I_--can ride her.” - -There was utter silence for an instant, and the horse-fancier’s face -brightened. “You?” Then it sobered again. “Thank you, dearie, but that -wouldn’t answer.” - -“Why wouldn’t it? I’m sure I could! And I want you to win; I do, I do! -I’d be so glad! Do let me try?” - -“Steenie Calthorp, don’t tempt me; in a case like this my will is -water!” - -“But why not? Don’t you know that I could? Haven’t you seen me ride -Diablo bareback,--standing--sitting--every way? And once, before I knew -how ’ticular you were ’bout her, I came dreadful near riding Trixie -myself,--I did, indeed, only Beatrice told me better. But I could. -Mayn’t I?” - -“I want to win!” - -“I will.” - -“How do you know?” - -“Try me; please try me! You’ve done things an’ things an’ things--for -me; an’ now--please let me do this wee, wee little thing for you.” - -“Wee? It’s a tremendous undertaking.” - -“Pouf!” Steenie shrugged her shoulders in one of her little Spanish -fashions, and made a motion of blowing thistle-down from her -fingertips. “Wait till I tell you. Do sit down a minute, please. I can -ride anything. I can ride standing, an’ jumping through rings, an’ over -hurdles, an’ any way a horse can go I can ride. If you’ll let me show -you now,--once this morning,--before everybody much is on the track, -I’ll make you see. Then you’ll say yes, won’t you?” - -“Steenie--I’m--I’m wax. But your grandmother--Do with me as you will!” -cried the Judge, comically, but looking very much relieved. “And there -certainly is no harm in your riding Trixie once, now--as you say.” - -Within the next half-hour Steenie demonstrated fully her ability to -ride Lady Trix, “anyhow, any shape,” and to that sensitive animal’s -perfect satisfaction, which, in such a case, was far more important -than the satisfaction of her master. - -“But, my little girl, what shall we say to the people at home? What -will they think of me as a guardian for their jealously-loved child?” - -Steenie sat thoughtful for a moment; then her face cleared. “They’ll -say I ought to do it if I can,--that is, if he was here to know -’bout it my father would say so. He tells me all the time to show my -’preciation of your kindness; an’ how am I going to if you don’t let me -have any chance? The only one way I can do things for you is through -your horses, ’cause I know ’bout ’em. Isn’t it? I’m puffectly sure my -father would say yes.” - -The Judge was reasonably certain of that also; but he was not so -positive concerning Madam’s opinion. However, his inclination urged him -so strongly that he at last replied: “Then, my brave, helpful little -girl, hear me. If I let you ride you must take the thousand dollars I -offered. Wait--listen--understand. It is the want of just that paltry -sum which necessitates your grandmother’s leaving her old home; she was -‘short’ just that amount in her indebtedness, or ‘liability,’ after the -farm was sold. To raise this money she is to sell her home. She would -not accept the loan of it, because she saw no way of ever repaying it; -and if your dear father’s writing ever comes to anything, it will be in -the future,--some distance.” - -“If you ride and win the race you must consider that you earn the -money fairly; and must take it. Else--no--decidedly--to the whole -proposition.” - -Again Steenie considered seriously. Her hesitation was not for herself, -of course, but for that proud old lady whom she so loved and, also, -feared. “If I earned it that way it couldn’t be wrong, could it? To -keep a dear grandmother in ‘the home of her youth.’ My father says what -we do things for, makes the things hono’ble, or dishono’ble. That was -’bout the riding-school. He would have let me, only he didn’t like--You -know. ’Count o’ Grandmother. This won’t be wrong, will it?” - -“From my point of view it seems very right, in every way; unless you -are afraid of the horse, or the publicity.” - -“What’s that?” - -“The people,--the being stared at. Will it make any difference with -your nerves?” - -“No! Oh, no! Grandmother says I haven’t any nerves, she guesses. And -I’m not afraid of folks--no more than horses. Why should I be? They’re -awful nice to me. Everybody is.” - -“How can they help being? Is it a compact, then?” - -“Yes, yes, yes! Oh, what fun! It makes me think of San’ Felis’ an’ -my dear ‘boys,’ an’ most of all of darling Bob. He’d be proud of the -Little Un, wouldn’t he? Oh, if he only knew!” She turned from Trixie’s -stall toward the stable door, and looked up at somebody who stood -there, the attendant groom, she had supposed. - -“He does, Little Un! Here he is! All the way from Californy to see you -win!” - -“Bob! My Bob!” - - - - -CHAPTER XVI. - - -[Illustration: STEENIE AND LADY TRIX.] - -“What? What is this?” Judge Courtenay looked incredulously around; and -there was Steenie clasping her arms about the neck of a tall stranger -who had knelt upon the stable floor, the better to receive her caress, -and whose brown, honest face shone with a delight which matched her -own. “Bob, is it? Why, sir, I know all about you! And right glad I am -to see you.” - -“The same, sir. Judge Courtenay, I presume. Just got in from the West. -Hunted up the ‘boss’ first, and he shipped me on here. Knew it wouldn’t -do to keep my eyes from the sight of this here young lady, not no -longer ’n necessary, no.” - -“Oh, Bob, why didn’t you send me word so that I could have been -’xpecting you? I’m so glad--glad--glad!” - -“Glad I didn’t, hey? But you’ve growed! You’ve growed a power sence I -lifted you aboard cars at San’ Felis’ station. How’s ever’thing?” - -“Everything? Well. No--I don’t know. Did Sutro Vives get safely back -home?” - -“Yes; Sutry’s all right,” answered the Kentuckian, quietly, and fixing -a significant glance upon Judge Courtenay’s face. “But let me in on -this racket. What is it? A horse-race, eh?” - -“Yes; and I’m to drive and ride this beauty. I must win, Bob! I must. -But now I know I shall--with you on hand to ’courage me. Oh, I’m so -glad, so glad!” - -“Give me the hull business. What’s about this thousand dollars?” - -“Down here,--sit right down here, an’ wait till I tell you.” Down sat -the ranchman, obediently, and Steenie close beside him, while she -poured into his ears a rapid history of what had befallen her since her -departure from her childhood’s home. - -Much of this he had already learned from her letters; much more Sutro -had told him; but this last threatened calamity--the family moving on -the morrow from the old house in High Street to the tiny cottage in the -suburbs--and the privations which menaced this child so dear to him, -was news and sad news. Still, he had come East to put his own powerful -shoulder to the burden his beloved Little Un was so bravely trying to -lift with her own childish strength, and there “was no such word as -fail” in Kentucky Bob’s vocabulary. - -“Well! Where’s yer rig-out? Ain’t a goin’ to ’pear afore the assembled -multitudes in just that flimsy frock, are you,--or is it a new style?” - -“No! Course not. Did I ever? But I’ve the cutest little habit ’at ever -was! Grandmother had it made for me; ’cause Mary Jane said, ‘If I was -bound ter break my neck, I’d better break it lookin’ ’spectable.’ Oh, -that Mary Jane! She’s the dearest, best, funniest little old body; -moves all of a jerk, an’ so quick she makes Mr. Resolved dizzy to watch -her,--so he says. He’s way down, down at the bottom of everything, all -the whole time; but he has the lumbago, an’ it’s that I s’pose. Though -she’s his sister an’ she doesn’t get hypoey, never. An’--oh, my habit? -Why, you see, dear Bob, when we had to sell Tito--” - -“Wh-at? Say that again. ’Pears like I don’t understand very sharp.” - -“Didn’t I tell you ’bout that? But it was so. We couldn’t ’ford to keep -him, my grandmother says; an’ Judge Courtenay bought him; an’ Papa put -the money in the savings bank toward my education, ’cause he said it -was a’most like takin’ money for folks, an’ it shouldn’t be used ’cept -for the best purpose. And dear Mrs. Courtenay made me bring my habit -an’ keep it here; so’s when I’ve done my lessons extra well I can have -a ride on Tito for a ‘reward.’ Anyhow, I see him every day; an’ I’ve -’xplained it to him best I could; but he doesn’t understand it very -well, I think. Any way he doesn’t behave real nice. When I go away he -whinnies an’ cries an’ acts--he acts quite naughty, sometimes. But he -oughtn’t; for everybody is as good as good to him. Come and see him -this minute.” - -Away went the reunited friends, and Tito’s intelligent eyes lighted -with almost human joy when his kind old instructor laid a caressing -hand upon his head, and cried out gayly: “Howdy, old boy! Shake, my -hearty, shake!” - -Up went Tito’s graceful fore-leg, and “shake” it was, literally -and emphatically. When this ceremony was over and the magnificent -stables of Rookwood had been duly examined and admired, Steenie was -commissioned to bring her friend into dinner, which was early that -day on account of the afternoon’s arrangements. During its progress, -Bob managed to give considerable information concerning Santa Felisa -happenings, as well as dispose of a hearty meal. He had “begged off” -from going to table with “these high-toned Easteners; ’cause you -know, Little Un, ’t I never et to no comp’ny table nowheres,--not -even to your’n an’ your pa’s. I’m a free-born American, an’ all that -rubbish--but I know what’s what: the more for that reason. In--my place -I’m as good as the next feller an’-a-little-better-too-sir; but outen -it--I’m outen it. Them ’at rides the plains an’ looks arter stawk, as -I’ve done the last hunderd years, more or less, hain’t learned to dip -their fingers into no fingerbowls nor wipe their mustache on no fringed -napkins.” - -But Judge Courtenay overruled the stranger’s objections, and once -having accepted the situation, Bob made the best of it. He was -awkward, of course, and ignorant concerning table etiquette; but he -let his awkwardness apologize for itself by his simple good nature -in the matter; and if his talk was not polished, it was full of wit, -originality, and a verve that carried his listeners captive. - -“Well!” said Mrs. Courtenay, when at last they could no longer delay -their rising from the board, “I do not know when I have enjoyed -anything so much as your descriptions of ranch-life. It is almost as -good as seeing it for myself; and it gives me a real longing for its -breeziness and freedom from social cares and restrictions.” - -“It’s the only life worth livin’, ma’am, in my opinion. Which same I -don’t go for to set up ag’in that of any other man or woman, only for -myself. I--I couldn’t exist anywheres elst, for any great length o’ -time. I don’t want nothin’ less ’an a ten-mile field to swing my long -arms round in. There ain’t--But, what’s the use? If I talked all day I -couldn’t tell nobody what them big open spaces o’ airth an’ sky is to -me; an’ if they’s a good Lord anywheres about, He’s out there in them -blossomin’ plains an’ snow-capped mountains an’ etarnal sunshine.” - -“My old Marm uset ter sing ’bout the ‘Beautiful Heaven above,’ -an’ ’pear to enjoy thinkin’ on ’t; an’ once I ast her what she -’lowed it was like. She said if ’t was like anything she knowed, -she’d ruther it’d be like Salem village,--out hum in the State o’ -Massachusetts,--an’ ary other place she’d ever seen. But I don’t want -no villages in mine; an’ if ever I git thar I don’t ask no purtier -place ’an Californy to go ridin’ round in, forever an’ ever. Amen.” - -“Ah! Well, to most of us, probably, Heaven is typical of what we like -best,” said the Judge, gravely, and led the way library-ward. Where, -for a while, he held a most absorbing conversation with this stranger -from the West; and when it was ended his genial countenance was even -more serious than before. - -Then came the shouts of the children, eager to be off to the “course;” -and thither, presently, everybody repaired. - -“Well, Little Un, you look prime! Bless my eyes! ’Pears ye’ve growed -more ’n five months’ wuth, in these five months o’ time, long as they -has be’n to old Bob, without ye. An’, huckleberries! They is quite a -crowd around, ain’t they! Well, you don’t mind that none, do ye?” - -“Why, of course not; an’, Bob, let me tell you, you stand in some -certain place,--you pick out where,--an’ every time I go round I’ll -look at you, see? Then you can make all the old signs you used to -make, an’ it’ll be a’most as good as Santa Felisa. But, think of it! -A thousand dollars! I want to win just as much. I truly do. Don’t I? -If only for Judge Courtenay’s sake, ’cause he’s so dear an’ kind, an’ -he’s Beatrice’s papa,--an’ I love her so very, very much. But most of -all, now--an’ it grows more an’ more so--I wish to get that money so my -darling old grandmother won’t have to leave her own home an’ her pretty -library, nor anything. Oh, do you think I’ll do it?” - -“Sartain. Sartain as I live. But you an’ I’ve got a job to tackle -arterwards. Look at these horses round here! Did ye ever see sech a lot -o’ poor, tortured, mis’able critters? Look at that check-strap yonder! -The man ’at owns the poor thing ’pears quite peart an’ quality-like, -but he’s a fool all the same. Wish I could hitch a string to his front -lock o’ hair an’ yank his idiotic old head over back’ards, same way! -Bet he wouldn’t go trot, trot, round that peaceable. No, siree, he’d -yell like a painter, an’ smash things if he couldn’t get loose. An’ -that other nincompoop further down that way, see that breechin’ he’s -put on his horse? He’d oughter be shot, ’cause big’s the world is thar -ain’t room enough in it for sech idiots as him! If I was that horse I’d -set right down on that strap an’ go to sleep, I would.” - -“Oh, you dear old scolder! You’ll see lots o’ cruelty to horses here in -Old Knollsboro; but the folks don’t understand ’em as well as you an’ I -do. That’s the reason. My father says it isn’t ’tentional unkindness, -it’s only ignorance. Ah! There they are calling me. Come!” - -The news had spread that Judge Courtenay had found a jockey to ride -his Trix, and one who was to drive her in the trainer’s place; so the -spirit of his wealthy opponent sank a little. However, an untried, -unpractised assistant, as this new hand must be, was quite as liable -to lose as win the contest for his employer, even though the animal he -rode was unequalled for speed. This second thought sent a thrill of -satisfaction to the heart of Doctor Gerould, the master of Rookwood’s -rival, and he now felt confident of his own success. Like his friend, -the Judge, he was warmly enthusiastic over his “hobby,” and would, in -the height of his excitement, have gone to any honest length to carry -off that day’s laurels. - -But when, after some preliminary contests between inferior beasts, the -real one began, and the four thoroughbreds who were to compete for the -famous “Rookwood cup” were drawn into line at the starting place, he -saw the girlish little figure which was lifted into the sulky behind -Trixie, his courage ebbed again. - -“That child! Why how in the world did he obtain her family’s consent!” -exclaimed a neighbor. - -“No matter how; there she is.” - -“But, have confidence, sir. She’s only a girl. She cannot have the -wisdom and skill--” - -“Cannot she? Maybe you haven’t heard about her; though, wasn’t it -yourself expatiating upon her wonderful riding over our country-roads -on her piebald mount? Why, man alive, the child’s a witch! So they -claim; and--Jupiter! If they haven’t imported a regular ‘Wild -Westerner’ besides! Well, I might as well give it up. Mordaunt’s -beaten.” - -Kentucky Bob was moving about Trixie as she stood waiting, examining -every strap and buckle of the light harness she wore, testing its -strength and that of the skeleton-like vehicle in which he had placed -his beloved “Little Lady of the Horse.” His gaunt face was grave and -anxious. He did not like this experimenting with untried animals, and -at such a stake. Still, he knew the mettle of the driver if not the -steed, and his superstitious faith in Steenie’s ability to succeed -everywhere and in everything made his words cheerful, if not his heart -wholly so. - -“I come jest in time, didn’t I, Little Un? An’ don’t you get excited -an’ ferget. You take the outside. Thar ain’t no legs in this show -’cept Trixie’s an’ that Mordaunt’s thar. Them two other critters’ll -drop out in no time; then you jest keep a steady head--an’ hand--_an’ -the outside_! Don’t you ferget it. I ain’t a goin’ to have ye crowded -up ag’in no railin’ an’ so caught an’ beat--mebbe hurt. Keep to the -outside, though they be so p’lite as ter offer ye the inside show. -Steady, is the word. Go it slow--warm her up--put on steam--get in -ahead. Thar ye go! Californy to win!” - -But not so easily. It was a contest hardly, barely won. Yet it was -won--and honestly; and, the driving over, Steenie was swung to the -ground once more by her attentive Bob, who was far more pleased and -proud than she. - -“Ye did it, Little Un! Ye did it! Though, o’ course, I didn’t expect -nothin’ else o’ my ‘Mascot’!” - -But the child’s face was downcast. The cheers and plaudits which -followed her as she went into the waiting-room were almost unheard and -quite unnoticed, and she bounded toward Judge Courtenay with actual -tears of vexation in her blue eyes. “Oh, I’m so sorry! You’ll never -have any faith in me again, will you?” - -“Why, my dear little girl! You’ve won! Didn’t you know that you had -won?” cried the master of Rookwood, in high delight. - -“Call it ‘won,’ sir? That little bit o’ ways? Trixie should have been -in a dozen lengths ahead, ’stead of just a teeny, tiny bit! I’m so -sorry, so sorry!” - -That was the only way in which she could be induced to regard her -victory; but when, later on, the riding was announced, her vivacity and -hopefulness returned. “Now--I’m all right! I can ride--anything! Same’s -I can breathe, just as easy. An’ see here, my Lady Trix, you have got -to ’xert yourself this time, you dear, beautiful, lazy thing! You hear? -If you don’t, I’ll never speak to you again as long as I live! So -there, my dainty one!” - -Whether Trixie understood, who can tell? Certainly the dire calamity -her small friend threatened was not destined to befall the proud queen -of Judge Courtenay’s stables. Maybe because riding was, as Steenie -said, more natural to her than driving, it was evident from the word -“Go!” that she was the winner by long odds. - -Almost it seemed, toward the last, that there was practically no -contest at all; but the truth was that such wonderful equestrianship as -Steenie Calthorp accomplished that day had never been seen on that or -any other course thereabouts. - -“I’m bound to beat!--and beat so far that I’ll feel all nice and clean -about it in my heart, too!” she declared at starting; then she kissed -her hand to Beatrice, watching wide-eyed from a seat of honor, and -rode gayly away to victory. With her little face smiling and rosy, -yet tremendously in earnest, the far-away look in the bonny eyes, -the aureole of sun-kissed ringlets streaming on the air, she seemed -to communicate to her mount her very thoughts and feelings,--“For -Grandmother and Home!” - -[Illustration: She kissed her hand to Beatrice--Page 261.] - -It was love, then, that won!--love and unselfishness, which even in -the person of a little child were irresistible, as they are always -irresistible. And so well she did her part, so noble was her aim, that, -now he had learned it, even Doctor Gerould lost every opposing wish. - -“Well! well! If that’s the case, I’d rather she’d beat than not--of -course!--even if it damages Mordaunt’s record. And I’ll double the -price if they’ll let me.” - -“But, of course, also, that can’t be, my friend,” explained the Judge. -“It’s just as probable as not that the Calthorp pride will up and -make a rumpus about the whole matter, even now. I shall feel more -comfortable after I know how the check is received. But if anything was -ever honestly earned that was!--and never did I draw one so willingly. -There they go! Good luck go with them!” - -There they went, indeed! Riding in state through the streets of Old -Knollsboro, in the Courtenay carriage, with the Courtenay livery on the -box, and crowds of admiring people, returning village-ward, watching -their progress. Straight from love’s triumph to the square white house -in High Street, and to the brilliant smile of the polished old “lion” -on its door, a smile of welcome Steenie had long since learned to -regard it. - -Grandmother Calthorp, sitting sadly at the window of her beloved and -now denuded library, saw this royal approach, and wondered. Then her -heart chilled with fear lest harm had befallen the child who had grown -into its very depths, and had now become the centre of life to it, -dearer than any other living creature, dearer even than the precious -packed-away books which had for so long outranked humanity in the -Madam’s estimation. - -But Steenie was not hurt! A second glance showed that; for through the -hastily-donned eye-glasses the waiting woman saw that the child had -risen in her place, and stood waving joyously above her head a tiny -strip of paper, while the sparkling little face proclaimed in advance: -“Good news!” - -Then the carriage stopped; and, although the bearer of the paper longed -to jump out, she restrained herself till the footman had opened the -cumbrous door which stayed her impatient feet. Then, out upon the -ground and up the path she sped, scarcely touching the ground in her -eagerness. - -A noisy entrance, truly, but who could help that, or who reprove? - -“Grandmother! See here! See here! You needn’t move! -Never--never--never! A thousand dollars! A whole one thousand splendid -dollars! I earned it! I won the race! For you--for you!” - -Then the white paper fluttered into the trembling old hands; and -Steenie’s dancing feet bore her swiftly from the room to find and share -with the proud father her happy news. - - - - -CHAPTER XVII. - -CONCLUSION. - - -[Illustration: RESOLVED AND MARY JANE.] - -“Land o’ Goshen! Madam’s a cryin’!” Mary Jane had rubbed her eyes -repeatedly, believing they deceived her; but she was now forced to -admit the truth of their report. - -“’Tain’t no sech a thing!” retorted Resolved, testily. Yet he advanced -to peep over his sister’s shoulder at this startling phenomenon; -then he pushed his spectacles up out of place, the better to “see -with his own eyes” this unprecedented proceeding, and ejaculated: -“My-soul-I-declare!” - -This was what he beheld. - -Daniel Calthorp sitting near the window, leaning his brow upon -his hand, not indeed to veil his sightless eyes from any untoward -spectacle, but to hide the workings of his own face. - -Kentucky Bob standing in the doorway, uneasily shifting his great -length from foot to foot, and ready for flight the instant things -became “a trifle too tropercal fer a Westerner.” - -While Steenie was kneeling before the Madam’s chair, her warm little -hands resting upon the worn white hands in the lady’s lap, and her -eager, loving glances trying to interpret the conflicting emotions -which pictured themselves upon the noble face above her. - -The worst sign of all, in Mary Jane’s opinion, was that her proud -mistress evidently didn’t even care how many witnessed this unusual -display of weakness. “She ain’t a tryin’ ter hide nothin’! Not a tear! -Poor soul, poor soul! She’s a down deep in the waters o’ triberlation -when she lets go o’ her hefty sperrit, an’ don’t mind us a seein’ what -we do now. That ever I should a lived ter look at Madam Calthorp a -weepin’ tears! Oh, my soul, oh! I did think ’at we’d manage ter go out -the old house, as Steenie says, ‘colors flyin’’ an’ hearts braced up, -even if bust. But when she--_she_--gins out, let us _all_ gin out. Oh, -me--me!” - -“Shat up carn’t ye? Hark! What’s the youngun a sayin’?” - -Curiosity comforted the faithful old serving-woman’s immediate grief; -she paused in the very middle of a sigh to listen. - -“Don’t look so, dear grandmother, darling grandmother! Did I do so -very, very wrong? Do b’lieve me, I didn’t mean to. An’--my! Wait, -Grandmother! If you don’t want it, please don’t cry on poor Judge -Courtenay’s check, ’cause Papa says--Oh, Grandmother! Will you? Will -you?” - -The pantomime was more intelligible than the words. For the first time -the stately head was bent slightly,--even under the relaxation of these -unprecedented circumstances it had been held upright,--and a sudden -smile broke over the tear-wet face, making it beautiful as proud. - -Proud it had always been, but not as now, proud with an unutterable -tenderness, proud--even that paradox--in a new, sweet, and reverent -humility, as the thin hands gently dropped upon the child’s curly -head, and the tremulous lips found voice: “Steenie, Steenie! My brave, -precious one! Hush! There is no reproach for you; there is nothing but -love and obligation. You have humbled me as I have never been humbled -in my life; and you have made me proud as I have never been proud. You -have conquered your grandmother, now come to her.” - -Steenie leaped, joyfully, into the arms opened to receive her, but the -words which had fallen from the Madam’s lips mystified her, and she was -still clinging about the speaker’s shoulders, looking doubtfully upon -the narrow white check, which had fallen to the carpetless floor, when -Bob’s resonant voice cut into a scene which was becoming “too all-fired -watery round the eyes for him,” and cleared the mystery. - -“Which means, my Little Un, begging your pardon, Ma’am, an’ everybody’s -pardon, that our ‘Little Lady of the Horse’ hain’t won her ticket for -nothin’. Which bein’ the case--I say, old feller? You Unresolved old -Puritan, you, I think I know a cure for your lumbago. Want to hear it?” - -“Yes, yes,” answered Mr. Tubbs, eagerly. - -“Here ’tis. Price nothin’. Turn to an’ fetch a hammer an’ nails, an’ -unroll that strip o’ carpet thar. I don’t relish the sound o’ my own -boots on hard oak floors like this un, an’ the sooner we get the carpet -back into place, the sooner I shall feel to hum. Lively, now. We’ll get -it down afore pitch-dark, even in this region o’ short days.” - -To picture Mr. Tubbs’s disgust is impossible. Then, even to his selfish -heart, crept a warm, tender, human feeling, and he cast a sidelong -glance at the mistress he had served so long, if not so well. - -Observing which, Bob, that clear-sighted translator of people’s -emotions, gave friendly encouragement. “That’s the fust step. -Second--look! See here? Look at this vial? Know what it is? Ever see -anything so fine?” - -“Eh? No. What is it?” demanded Resolved, who had a keen eye and ear for -anything in the shape of “medicine.” - -“Rattlesnake ile,--that’s what she is. Double distilled, an’ -forty-thousandth purity. Volatile as gas. Can’t fix it in no ordinary -bottles, with no ordinary stoppers. Worth its weight in gold; worth -more if it couldn’t be replaced. Sample I brought from my Little Un’s -property,--from the rancho er the mountain o’ Santa Trinidad. Hm! -Didn’t mean to say that--yet. But no matter. Step lively now. An’ if ye -do, I’ll rub some o’ this precious stuff on your worthless old back, -an’ if I don’t bounce the lumbago, my name ain’t Bob, an’ I hain’t -never rid on no Santa Felisa round-up.” - -There was tonic, elixir, in the very tone; not only for the -stiff-jointed Mr. Tubbs, but for every individual there present. - -Mary Jane, proper Baptist that she was, almost executed a fancy dance; -but recollecting herself in time, went hurrying away to her kitchen, -her cracked, quavering, but joyful voice proclaiming in song,-- - - “I’ve reached a land of corn and wine, - And all its riches freely mine. - Here shines undimmed one blissful day, - For all my night has passed away.” - -Mr. Calthorp crossed over and gave his mother a grateful kiss, then -walked out whistling. - -Steenie slipped down and watched her grandmother fold the beneficent -scrap of white paper safely away in her pocket-book, then danced a -_pas-de-seul_ without any of Mary Jane’s scruples of conscience. - -And even Madam Calthorp began humming softly some melody of her youth, -and moved the chairs out of the room, to further the cheerful labor -of Kentucky Bob, who had the carpet unrolled and into place, “in the -jerk of a lamb’s tail,” and who whistled gayly, till he remembered that -he was the guest of a high-bred lady, when he restrained himself, and -worked away all the faster, maybe. - -“My, isn’t it just too delightful to be happy!” cried small Steenie, -in the fulness of her rapture; and the instant laugh which greeted her -quaint exclamation was answer sufficient. - -“It’s taken ferever ter git these things tore up an’ out o’ place; but -I guess they’ll ’bout fly back inter it ag’in, o’ their own accord,” -said Mary Jane, unwrapping the parlor “table-spread” and recklessly -throwing away the string. While Resolved puffed and stretched at that -carpet, determined to keep ahead of Bob’s resolute, speedy “tack,” -“tack,” without one grunt or groan. - -Wasn’t it fun to put that old house “to rights” once more? Wasn’t it? -Such fun that, as Mary Jane prophesied, the furniture almost seemed to -march itself back into position; while Steenie was allowed, not only -to handle, but to unpack and restore to their own shelves the precious -books which seemed “folks a’most” to their loving owner. - -But to all sunshine there is shadow. To the brightest day succeeds a -twilight; and a spiritual twilight fell upon these happy people, when, -after all was done that could be done, they gathered about the blazing -fire on the great hearth-stone in the dining-room, and heard the story -which Kentucky Bob had come so far to tell. - -“’Pears as if I didn’t know how to begin it. But I must; though I ain’t -no oraytor, I ain’t. Come a here, Little Un. The ‘boss’ won’t mind a -sparin’ of ye to me I ’low, an’ mebbe I kin talk straighter a feelin’ -yer little hand in mine. Good little hand, strong little hand, lovin’ -little hand, that takes right a holt o’ everybody’s heart an’ pulls it -out o’ wickedness an’ inter the straight. Pulled old Sutry Vives out o’ -malice an’ murder, ter live a Christian an’ die a martyr.” - -“What? _What?_” cried Steenie, aghast. - -“Hush, Little Un, don’t! It’s ’bout all old Bob kin do, -anyhow--an’--Don’t make a break in the perceedin’s ag’in, if ye kin -help it, don’t! ’Cause I ain’t much uset ter preachin’, an’ this -here--is _’bout_ a--_funeral sermon_!” - -He needed not to hush any one again, not even when the “sermon” was -ended. - -“Sutry, he come hum. When he come I happened ter meet him, an’ when -he stepped out o’ the car at San’ Felis’ I didn’t scurcely know him. -Some o’ his folks lived above a hunderd; but couldn’t none on ’em ever -looked so old as Sutry did that day. An’ when I spoke to him an’ told -him ‘Howdy!’ he jest stared up inter my face--No matter! He’s square; -squarest man I ever knowed. - -“He told me ’t he’d made his will. He’d gin ever’thing he got ter the -Little Un. ‘Everything you’ve got?’ says I, laughin’, harsh like. - -“‘Yes, La Trinidad.’ - -“Then I laughed more, but--not long. That night he ast me ter take a -couple o’ the boys, an’ go up inter that snake-infested peak with him. -We didn’t wanter. Snakes hadn’t be’n troublesome none, ’long back; but, -somehow, thar warn’t no refusin’, he looked that queer an’ un-Sutry -like. So next mornin’ we went; an’ goin’ up he told me all the bad -news ’bout you all, an’ his way o’ changin’ it inter good. He’d foond -out, he thought, ’at Steenie here couldn’t ’herit till he was dead. He -could gin her anything he’d a mind to; but he knowed nobody wouldn’t -b’lieve none o’ his big talk, long as he lived. But if it was her ’n, -out an’ out, they’d have ter try an’ see what this ’heritance was. He -kinder impressed me even then; an’ we went on quite chipper. Killed a -few rattlers by the way, an’ went spang up an’ up, an’ then down ag’in, -inter the very heart o’ the mountain. Then I seed thar’d be’n some -prospectin’ done thar sometime. We found a trail an’ we follered it. - -“An’ I ain’t never laughed at Sutry Vives, ner La Trinidad -property--sence. What he showed us was enough ter sober a drunken man -arter a big spree. - -“Then we started hum ag’in; but, half-way down, Sutry called us ter -stop. - -“‘Boys,’ says he, ‘ye’ve seen what I showed ye. I picked you three out, -’cause you love the Little Un, an’ I kin trest ye. Sw’ar ’at you’ll -be true ter yer trest; sw’ar ter do the plumb square by the little -Seenoreety.’ - -“You bet we swore!--all an’ more’n he ast us. Then we went on ag’in, -but Sutry didn’t foller. - -“‘I feel like I’d like ter stay here a little while alone,’ says he; -’an’ if I don’t come down in fair season, you kin come an’ hunt me up.’ - -“‘Better not,’ says I. But he would; an’ we, each on us, had our dooty -ter do, an’ so we left him.” - -There was a long silence, broken, at last, by Steenie, asking softly: -“Well?” - -“Well, when I rec’lect that night--I--Huckleberries! Carn’t ye guess -it? Think o’ the squarest thing a feller could do, an’ then know he -done it,--that poor, laughed-at, despised, weak-witted old Don Sutry!” - -“Oh, tell me, Bob, please! My heart’s all suffocky, an’ I can’t -breathe!” - -“You ’low I couldn’t rest. I kep’ a thinkin’ o’ that old vener’ble -up thar, a takin’ his last look at a property ’at had be’n his ’n, -er his folks, sence way back--an’ the lonesomeness an’ all--an’ I -couldn’t stan’ it. So I started just arter moon-rise, an’ clumb up -ag’in, callin’ myself names all the time fer a fool. An’ when I got to -the very heart o’ the place--thar he lay, sleepin’ quiet an’ a’most a -smilin’,--right thar in that den!” - -“But you waked him up, Bob? Quick--didn’t you?” - -“Yes, I did. Perhaps I had a job, though! ’Twas a close call fer the -old caballero. An’ when I’d rousted him a little, ye should a heered -him pitch inter me! ’Cause I wouldn’t let him lay still thar an’ die o’ -rattlesnake bite!” - -“Why, Bob? Why should he wish to die?” - -“Fer your sake, Little Un; to make you rich an’ happy an’ ever’thing. -An’ I ’low the notion was jest as noble as if he’d be’n let ter finish -it up as he meant.” - -“Well? The result?” asked Mr. Calthorp, impatiently. - -“Well, he’ll live, I reckin; but his old age won’t be not very -flourishin’ ner green-bay-tree like. ’Twas an even chance, ’bout. I -carried him down on my back, an’ thar happened ter be an old Indian on -hand ’at done his level best; an’ he’ll live. So they think. - -“But we had a tussle with him, fust. An’ not till Lord Plunkett -himself, who had come round that way ag’in, was lugged inter the room -ter hear the hull story, an’ ter promise ever’thing should be done same -as if he died, would Sutry consent ter take the stuff old Pueblo forced -down his throat. But, to all intents an’ purposes, he was a martyr, -Sutry Vives was.” - -The graphic story cast over them all an awed and solemn feeling which -made speech seem impossible. Till, after awhile, a half-charred stick -fell into the coals, and Mary Jane looked up through her tears. -“Greater love hath no man than this,” said she, softly; and even -Resolved failed to sniff. - -Finally Madam Calthorp asked: “What was in the mountain that made it so -valuable in the old Spaniard’s eyes?” - -“Sunthin’, ’at when it’s developed--as Lord Plunkett an’ Jedge -Courtenay has offered ter advance the funds fer--’ill make the Little -Un rich enough ter kindle fires with jest sech checks as she fetched -home ter-day.” - -“But I do not understand.” - -“Silver, ma’am, silver. Quality, A one. Quantity, unlimited. That’s all -it was.” - - -THE END. - - - - -_Messrs. Roberts Brothers’ Publications._ - - -THE MUSHROOM CAVE. - - =By Evelyn Raymond, author of “The Little Lady of the - Horse.” With illustrations by Victor A. Searles. Square - 12mo. Cloth. Price, $1.50.= - -[Illustration] - -It is very artistically illustrated by Victor A. Searles, and is -handsomely printed and bound. The chief characters are members of a -Quaker family. The young hero and heroine, through misfortune, show -a readiness to make the best of things, he by diligent application, -and she by meeting everything with a happy disposition, which is -both entertaining and must encourage other youngsters who read their -adventures to earnest deeds. There are many exciting incidents and -surprises in the story, which is told with exceeding grace and -brightness. It should be a very popular Christmas gift book.--_Boston -Times._ - -It tells of the successful scheme of two bright children to raise -mushrooms, and of the way they finally lifted the cloud of debt that -rested on their home. The story is full of good moral lessons, imparted -in such a way that they do not hurt the interest. The book is finely -illustrated.--_San Francisco Chronicle._ - - -_Mailed, postpaid, on receipt of price, by the publishers_, - - ROBERTS BROTHERS, Boston. - - -A Cape May Diamond. - - By Evelyn Raymond, author of “The Little Lady of the - Horse,” “The Little Red Schoolhouse,” and “The Mushroom - Cave.” Illustrated by Lilian Crawford True. Square 12mo. - Cloth. Price, $1.50. - -[Illustration: A CAPE MAY DIAMOND.] - -One of the most delightful stories for young readers that have been -published for many years was the book given to them two years ago, -entitled “The Little Lady of the Horse,” written by Evelyn Raymond. -It has already become a classic. But the same gifted author has well -matched this favorite story with a new one which she has produced for -the present holiday season, entitled “A Cape May Diamond.” The heroine -of this story was cast upon the beach at Cape May in a basket, made -waterproof, when little more than an infant, and was adopted by a -worthy German and his wife. She was called a Diamond by the life-saving -men because she was found in the sand, and she grew to girlhood a -universal favorite on the beach, because of her splendid character. -She was healthy, true as steel, ready to help anybody in need, and -as brave as the most faithful dog. Every reader is sure to love the -sunny-hearted little Karen, and will rejoice in the happy solution of -the mystery that surrounded her parentage and her advent at Cape May. -The book is finely illustrated by Lilian Crawford True, and it will be -sure to be a holiday favorite. - -_Sold by all booksellers. Mailed, postpaid, by the Publishers_, - - ROBERTS BROTHERS, Boston. - - -THE LITTLE RED SCHOOLHOUSE. - -By EVELYN RAYMOND, - -Author of “Little Lady of the Horse,” etc. - -Illustrated by Victor A. Searles. 12mo. Cloth. Price, $1.25. - -[Illustration] - - A good, wholesome, carefully written story of a district - school, its teacher, its scholars, and the members of the - school-board. - - ROBERTS BROTHERS, Boston, Mass. - - -THE Keeper of the Salamander’s Order. - -_=A TALE OF STRANGE ADVENTURE IN UNKNOWN CLIMES.=_ - - By William Shattuck, author of “The Secret of the Black - Butte.” With Ninety-Five Illustrations by Walter and Isabel - Shattuck. Small 4to. Cloth. Gilt. 326 pages. Price, $2.00. - -The scene of this wonder story is a mysterious region washed by the -waves of a tropical sea yet to be explored. The young prince of this -mysterious land is induced by a fairy to ride away with her on the back -of a salamander, which rushes rapidly through the air until it reaches -the fairies’ castle on a floating mountain. Here silver and other -metal and precious stones grow on trees in abundance. While here, the -floating mountain falls into the sea, leaving the prince and the fairy -on the salamander’s back. The fairy is disenchanted, and in her place -is a little girl who is greatly troubled because she has forgotten the -word which formerly gave her command of the salamander. They decide to -try to find the Keeper of the Salamander’s Order that they may discover -the lost word. They are whirled away and meet with strange experiences, -visiting The Largest Meteor Unknown to Science, The Island of the Smoke -Bird, The Land of the Pillow-Heads, The Some Other Kind of People, -and many strange and wonderful places, where they make friends of the -queer inhabitants. The book is well printed and handsomely bound, and -contains many appropriate illustrations. This volume will be very -acceptable to young people as a Christmas gift.--_Portland Press._ - -The narrative is quite unique in its conception, and the underlying -motive is ingeniously carried out.... The story abounds in incidents -of a sufficiently thrilling nature, is free from anything likely to -wound the tender susceptibilities of sensitive children, and it is very -attractively and lavishly illustrated.--_The Beacon._ - -One of the largest and handsomest of the books for the young that -have made their appearance this year.... The tale itself is of the -fairy-like order which always enchains the minds of the young, and -which are read with relish by their fathers and mothers. It is -sufficiently extravagant in its imaginative features to satisfy the -taste of the most exacting.... It is well written.--_Kansas City -Herald._ - - ROBERTS BROTHERS, Publishers, - No. 3 Somerset Street, BOSTON, MASS. - - -_Messrs. Roberts Brothers’ Juveniles._ - - - =FATHER GANDER’S MELODIES FOR MOTHER GOOSE’S GRANDCHILDREN.= - By Adelaide F. Samuels. Illustrated by Lillian Trask - Harlow. Small 4to. Cloth. $1.25. - -[Illustration] - -_Sold everywhere. Mailed, post-paid, on receipt of price, by the -Publishers,_ - - ROBERTS BROTHERS, Boston, Mass. - - -_Messrs. Roberts Brothers’ Publications._ - - -VOYAGE OF THE LIBERDADE - -BY CAPTAIN JOSHUA SLOCUM. - -_Illustrated. 4to, Cloth. Price, $1.00._ - -[Illustration] - - The “Voyage of the Liberdade” reads like a romance, but - is, nevertheless, the faithful account of a marvellous - experience in the career of that indomitable Yankee - tar--Capt. Joshua Slocum. How the wonderful little boat, - containing the author and his family, made a journey of - 5,000 miles in the face of perils calculated to terrify - many of the hardiest is told without any attempt at - rhetorical garnish, yet with a clearness that gives it a - permanent literary value. - -_Sold everywhere. Mailed, post-paid, on receipt of price, by the -Publishers_, - - ROBERTS BROTHERS, Boston, Mass. - - -Mrs. Wesselhoeft’s Stories. - - ☘☘☘ - - =Jerry the Blunderer.= By Lily F. Wesselhoeft, author of - “Sparrow the Tramp,” “Flipwing the Spy,” “Old Rough the - Miser,” etc. 16mo. Cloth. Illustrated from photographs - taken from life. Price, $1.25. - -[Illustration] - -_Sold by all Booksellers. Mailed, postpaid, on receipt of price, by the -Publishers_, - - ROBERTS BROTHERS, Boston, Mass. - - -THE CAPTAIN OF THE KITTIEWINK. - - A Cape Ann Story for Boys. By Herbert D. Ward, author of - “The New Senior at Andover,” and other Stories. With nine - Illustrations. Square 16mo. Cloth. Price, $1.25. - -[Illustration: THE WRECK OF THE “KITTIEWINK.”] - -As Capt. “Phineas Scrod,” who had charge of the Kittiewink, would have -expressed it, “That there craft wasn’t no teaspoon.” A capital good -boat she proved to be, and a prime story has Mr. Ward written, giving -the adventures of Hall, Algernon, and last but not least, of Trot, the -terrier. “The Captain of the Kittiewink” is just the kind of story to -give boys the yachting madness.--_New York Times._ - -_Sold by all Booksellers. Mailed, post-paid, by the Publishers_, - - ROBERTS BROTHERS, Boston. - - - - -Transcriber’s Notes - - -A number of typographical errors were corrected silently. - -Cover image is in the public domain. - -Left double quotes were added at the beginning of chapters where -appropriate. 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