“So far as taking care of the child goes, I should do my duty. I don't think Mrs. Evringham or her daughter would wish to be bothered; but I know very little about children, except that your house is no place for them to be racing in. One young one brings others. You would be annoyed, sir. Some folks can always ask favors.” The housekeeper's cheeks were flushed with the strength of her repugnance, and her bias relieved Mr. Evringham's indecision. “I agree with you,” he returned, rising. “Tell 'Zekiel to saddle the Maid. After dinner I will let him take a telegram to the office.” He returned to the house without further words, and Mrs. Forbes called to her son in a voice that had a wrathful quaver. “What you got your back up about?” inquired Zeke softly, after a careful look to see that his august master had departed. “Never you mind. Mr. Evringham wants you should saddle his horse and bring her round. I want he should see you can do it lively.” “Ain't she a beaut'!” exclaimed Zeke as he led out the mare. “She'd ought to be shown, she had.” “Shown! Better not expose your ignorance where Mr. Evringham can hear you. That mare's taken two blue ribbons already.” “Showed they knew their business,” returned Zeke imperturbably. “I s'pose the old gent don't care any more for her than he does for his life.” “I guess he loves her the best of anything in this world.” “Love! The governor love anything or anybody! That's good,” remarked the young fellow, while Essex Maid watched his movements about her with gentle, curious eyes. “I do believe she misses Fanshaw and notices the difference,” remarked Mrs. Forbes. “Glad to, too. Ain't you, my beauty? She's going to be stuck on me before we get through. She don't want any Britishers fooling around her.” “You've certainly made her look fine, Zeke. I know Mr. Evringham will be pleased. She just shines from her pretty little ears to her hoofs. Take her around and then come back. I want to talk to you.” “If I don't come back,” returned the boy, “you'll know the governor's looked at me a little too hard and I've been struck so.” “Don't be any foolisher than you can help,” returned Mrs. Forbes, “and hurry.” On 'Zekiel's return to the barn he saw that his mother's face was portentous. “Lawrence was at least handsome like his father,” she began without preamble, looking over Zeke's shoulder, “but Harry was as homely as he was no account. I should think that man had enough of his sons' belongings hanging on him already. What do you think, 'Zekiel Forbes? Mr. Evringham's youngest son Harry has turned up again!” “I should think it was the old Harry by your tone,” rejoined Zeke equably. “He and his wife, poor as church mice, are getting their expenses paid to Europe on business, and they have the nerve--yes, the cheek--to ask Mr. Evringham to let them leave their young one, a girl eight years old, with him while they're gone.” “I hope it's a real courageous youngster,” remarked Zeke.