Through stained glass Part 41

"That's dad's valet," said Lewis, grinning.

"Valley, is it?" said William, glancing over one shoulder. "Nice, lush bit o' green, to look at him. What does he do?"

"Looks after dad. Waits on him, helps him dress, and packs his bags for him."

William stopped in his tracks and turned on Leighton.

"Glen," he said, "I don't know ez you c'n stand to ride in the old kerryall. I ain't brought no sofy pillows, ner even a fire-screen to keep the sun from sp'ilin' yer complexion."

Leighton smiled, but said nothing. They had reached the carryall, an old hickory structure sadly in need of paint. Hitched to it were two rangy bays. The harness was a piece of ingenious patchwork, fitted with hames instead of collars. Leighton stepped into the back seat, and Lewis followed. William unhitched the horses and climbed into the cramped front seat. When he had settled down, his knees seemed to be peering over the dash-board. "Gid ap!" he cried, and the bays started off slowly across the bridge.

The road to the homestead followed down the river for three miles before it took to the hills. No sooner had the carryall made the turn into the River Road than the bays sprang forward so suddenly that Lewis's hat flew off backward, and for a moment he thought his head had followed.

"Heh!" he called, "I've lost my hat!"

"Never mind your hat, Son," shouted William. "Silas'll pick it up."

The bays evidently thought he was shouting at them. They let their enormous stride out another link. The carryall plowed through the dust, rattled over pebbles, and, where the road ran damp under overhanging trees, shot four streams of mud from its flying wheels. Old William chewed steadily at the cud of tobacco he had kept tucked in his cheek during the interview at the station. His long arms were stretched full length along the taut reins. If he had only had hand-holds on them, he would have been quite content. As it was, he was grinning.

"Gee, Dad!" gasped Lewis, "d'you know those horses are still _trotting_!"

Leighton leaned forward.

"Got a match, William?" he shouted above the creak and rattle of the carryall.

"Heh?" yelled William.

The bays let out another link.

"Got a match?" repeated Leighton. "I want to smoke."

William waved his beard at his left-hand pocket.

As they struck a bit of quiet, soft road, Leighton called:

"Why don't you let 'em out? You've gone and left your whip at home. How are we going to get up the hill?"

The grin faded from Old William's face. "_Gid ap!_" he roared, and then the bays showed what they could really do in the way of hurrying for the doctor. The old carryall leaped a thank-you-ma'am clean. When it struck, the hickory wheels bent to the storm, but did not break.

Instead, they shot their load into the air. A low-hanging branch swooped down and swept the canopy, supports and all, off the carryall. William never looked back.

Lewis clung to the back of the front seat.

"D-d-dad," he stuttered, "p-please don't say anything more to him! D-d'you know they're _still_ trotting?"

At last the bays swung off upon the steep Hill Road, and slowed down to a fast, pulling walk. Old William dropped the reins on the dash-board, made a telling shot with tobacco juice at a sunflower three yards off, and turned to have a chat.

"Glen," he said, "I reckon, after all, there's times when you c'n do without sofy pillows."

"Why, William," said Leighton, still pale with fright, "If I'd had a pillow, I'd have gone fast asleep." Then he smiled. "Some of the old stock?"

William nodded.

"I don't mind tellin' you I ain't drove like thet sence the day me'n you--"

"Never mind since when, William," broke in Leighton, sharply. "How's Mrs. Tuck?"

CHAPTER XLIV

"Is that the house?" asked Lewis, as they mounted the brow of the hill.

Leighton nodded.

Across a wide expanse of green that was hardly smooth enough to be called a lawn gleamed the stately homestead. It was of deep-red brick, trimmed with white. It stood amid a grove of giant sugar-maples. The maples blended with the green shutters of the house, and made it seem part and parcel of the grove. Upon its front no veranda had dared encroach, but at one side could be seen a vine-covered stoop that might have been called a veranda had it not been dwarfed to insignificance by the size of the house. The front door, which alone in that country-side boasted two leaves, was wide open, and on the steps leading up to it, resplendent in fresh gingham, stood Mrs. Tuck.

With some difficulty William persuaded the bays to turn into the long-unused drive that swept up to the front door. Leighton sprang out.

"Hallo, Mrs. Tuck!" he cried. "How are you?"

"How do you do? I'm very pleased to see you back, Mr. Leighton," said Mrs. Tuck, who read the best ten-cent literature and could talk "real perlite" for five minutes at a stretch. "Come right along in. You'll find all the rooms redded up--I mean--"

"Yes, yes," laughed Leighton, "I know what you mean all right. I haven't even forgotten the smell of hot mince pies. Lew, don't you notice a sort of culinary incense----'

"Land sakes! them pies is a-_burnin'_!" shrieked Mrs. Tuck as she turned and ran.

William offered to show the way to the bedrooms, but Leighton refused.

"No," he said, "we'll come around and help you put up the team. No use washing up till we get our things."

Silas, with the spring-wagon, duly appeared. On top of the baggage, legs in air, was the discarded canopy of the carryall. Beside Silas sat Nelton. He was trembling all over. In his lap he held Lewis's hat. His bulging eyes were fastened on it.

"There they be," grunted Silas. "Told you they was all right. William be a keerful driver."

Nelton raised his eyes slowly. They lit, with wonder.

"Mr. Leighton," he cried, "Master Lewis, are you safe?'

"Quite safe, Nelton," said Leighton. "Why?"

Nelton mutely held out Lew's hat and jerked his head back at the wrecked canopy.

"Oh, yes," said Leighton, nodding; "we dropped those. Thank you for picking them up. Take the bags up-stairs."

"Lew," said Leighton, as they were washing, "did you use to have dinner at night at Nadir or supper?"