" He rose and took up his hat and riding-whip.
"Or when I will," said Dan, rising also. "Tell her--no, don't tell her
anything--what's the use?"
"She doesn't need telling," responded Champe, going toward the door; and he
added as they went together down the stair, "She always understands without
words, somehow."
Dan followed him into the yard, and watched him, from under the oaks beside
the empty stagecoach, as he mounted and rode away.
"For heaven's sake, remember my warning," said Champe, turning in the
saddle, "and don't insist upon eating dry bread if you're offered butter."
"And you will look after Aunt Molly and Betty?" Dan rejoined.
"Oh, I'll look after them," replied the other lightly, and rode off at an
amble.
Dan looked after the horse and rider until they passed slowly out of sight;
then, coming back to the porch, he sat down among the farmers, and
listened, abstractedly, to the drawling voice of Jack Hicks.
When Champe reached Chericoke, he saw Betty looking for him from Aunt
Emmeline's window seat; and as he dismounted, she ran out and joined him
upon the steps.
"And you saw him?" she asked breathlessly.
"It was pleasant to think that you came to meet me for my own sake," he
returned; and at her impatient gesture, caught her hand and looked into her
eyes.
"I saw him, my dear," he said, "and he was in a temper that would have
proved his descent had he been lost in infancy.
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