Rapidly he related to her
the episode of the switch engine in Dexter Allison's millyards.
"And I believe what I believe," he insisted, doggedly. "And to-morrow
I aim to give that boy a ride in one of Allison's 'steam injine' cabs,
if it's all I do!"
"I thought so," said Miss Sarah.
For a time she sat there upon his arm chair. Neither spoke, nor felt
the need for words. Just before she rose to go upstairs, she broke
that quiet.
"He has an odd, strange, half-wild beauty," she mused aloud. "A beauty
that is quite unusual, I should say, in children of his--his station.
His hair is silken and, oh so thick! And his eyes and square chin with
that little cleft. And his nose--his nose, I should say, might be said
to denote estheticism--and--a--a--ah----"
Caleb Hunter threw back his head at the telltale little quaver in the
voice and found Sarah Hunter smiling down at him, whimsically.
"Get all the amusement out of it that you can," he invited her.
"And--and trust a woman to take note of such points as you have
mentioned!"
From the stairs she gave him one backward glance.
"Forgive me, Cal," she hogged. "I meant it all--truly! Even the
estheticism, which I only included to tease you. And if you don't want
to trust to a woman's judgment on such points as I have mentioned, I
would suggest that you peep in on him when you retire, and--and confirm
them for yourself.
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