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“I’ll buy her,” returned the man, “if you’ll take fifty dollars off the price.”
Without hesitation Wright answered, “I couldn’t think of it, sir. I’m here to get a just price for Colonel Whiteoak’s horses. I couldn’t face him, if I’d been giving them away.”
“Especially,” said Crowdy, “when he’s fighting for his country and we’re safe at home. It wouldn’t seem right to beat down the price.”
“If he were here,” added Chase, “he’d say take it or leave it and be damned.”
As Adeline limped back toward the house she sang a joyful, though rather tuneless, song of triumph. The bargain had been clinched. The mare sold. She had done her part and done it well. But how her knee hurt! She would bathe it in hot water before she went to bed.
Inside the house she could hear that the family were at table. She limped softly upstairs. She washed face and hands and then brushed her hair, not attempting to get out the tangles. She took off her pullover and breeches and put on a little cotton dress she had outgrown but which still served for evenings at home. She must not wear socks. She must not show that awful-looking knee. She drew on a pair of the long black stockings she wore at school and hastened down to the dining room. She was about to seat herself when Alayne stopped her.
“Wait a moment,” she said, peremptorily, but with a quiver in her voice, “and tell me why you went back to the stables after I had told you to dress.”
“Yes,” added Nicholas, “we want to know what you were up to.” There was a mischievous gleam in his deep-set eyes.
Oh, that ever-recurring “we,” thought Alayne. It dragged her down to the level, in authority, of old great-uncles!
Adeline answered, “I had left my books in the stable. I had to go back for them.”
“And it took you three-quarters of an hour to find them! You can scarcely expect me to believe that.”
“When I got to the stable there was something interesting going on, so I stayed.”
“That’s right,” put in Ernest, “tell the truth. You’ll get a lighter punishment if you are truthful.” His forget-me-not blue gaze beamed encouragement at the child.
“If I’d dared to be truthful about my doings at her age,” said Finch, “I’d have got a clip on the ear that would have knocked me flat.”
“Oh, would you really, Uncle Finch?” cried Archer.
“You can bet I would. And a yank on the other ear to pick me up.”
Archer gave a shout of laughter. He fell back in his chair and laughed helplessly.
Alayne sprang up, went to him, lifted him upright and whispered in his ear, “Archer, do you want to go straight up to your room?”
“Oo!” he giggled, “your hair’s tickling my ear! Ooo!”
Roma, sitting next him, pinched him on the thigh. He uttered a squeal, then collapsed giggling. He shut his eyes tight and slowed the interior of his mouth in an insane grin.
“Archer!” ordered both great-uncles at once, “behave yourself!”
He straightened himself, hiccupping.
“Come and sit down, Adeline,” said Alayne, in a tense voice. She felt nervously exhausted. For the remainder of the meal she discussed sedulously with Finch a critical article in a musical magazine. The children were silent except for an occasional hiccup or smothered giggle from Archer. Rags brought a dish of hot soup for Adeline, setting it in front of her with a solicitous air.
When she had returned to her room she took the pile of textbooks that lay on her bed and slammed them onto the table. The door opened and Archer came in.
“I’m on my way to bed,” he remarked.
“That’s good news.”
He advanced to where he could look into her face. “You lied to Mummy, didn’t you?” he said.
“Yes,” she answered tersely. Then she added, while she sorted the books, “I had to. It was for her own good. It was for her good to sell Rosina. I had to help. It wasn’t a bit like you pretending you went to school when you didn’t. That was just for your own fun.”
Archer’s brow became noble. “Mr. Fennel says we should pray for forgiveness when we’ve told a lie. Have you ever?”
“No.”
“I’ll bet you’re afraid to.”
“Why?”
“Well, God might say out loud that He forgave you. You’d not like that, would you?”
“Of course, I should.”
“To be spoken to out loud from the ceiling!”
“Mummy doesn’t believe in that kind of God.”
“Does Daddy?”
“I think he believes what Mr. Fennel believes.”
“I guess you ought to ask God to forgive you.”
“All right, I will. Now, get out.”
“I wish you’d ask Him while I’m here.”
“People don’t pray in front of other people.”
“If you’ll pray, just this once, in front of me, I’ll promise not to stay away from school again.”
“All right. But, if you break your promise you’ll be sorry.”
With a decidedly grumpy expression she threw down the book she held, and, limping to the bed, knelt beside it. She could not kneel on the injured knee, so that leg, in its long black stocking, stuck stiffly out to one side. She folded her hands, closed her eyes and said:
“Please God, forgive me for lying to my mother. Please make her understand it was for her own good. And please fix things so I shan’t have to do it again. Amen.”
Archer stood with one hand holding his chin, his intense blue gaze bent on her. About once in three days Archer smiled, and now he did.
Alayne’s voice came from without. “Archer! Archer! Where are you?”
Adeline took him by the shoulders, opened the door and thrust him into the passage.
“My throat’s sore!” she heard him whine, as he went to meet his mother.
Adeline arranged her books on the table. Then she went to the rack where Renny’s pipes were hung. She selected one she knew to be a favourite of his. She took it from the rack and returned to the table. Seating herself she put the amber mouthpiece between her lips and drew a few reflective puffs. Then she laid the pipe on the table and applied herself to her studies.
ADELINE ATTENDED a large girls’ school in the city and an arrangement had been made by which she was taken there each morning and brought back in late afternoon by the Rector’s son, George Fennel, who went by car to his business. As his business was connected with the army he had an extra allowance of gasoline. Pheasant’s two boys also were taken to town by George. In fine weather Adeline walked through the fields to the church road and was there picked up by him. In bad weather or in winter he came to the house for her.
On this morning there was no reason for him to call for her. The weather was perfect. Yet Adeline did not see how she could endure the walk. Fresh and clean in her school tunic and long black stockings, she limped to the stables to find Wright. He was lounging in the open doorway smoking a cigarette. It was a quarter to eight and he had been up and at his work for two hours. He gave her a quizzical grimace