Henrietta's calmness under dire circumstances was a lesson to both Polk
and me, for with two gasps that sounded as one we both raced across the
porch, down the path and out to the road where Folk's Hupp runabout
stood by the worn old stone post that had tethered the horses of the
wooers of many generations of the maids of my house.

But, prompt as our response to Henrietta's demand for rescue had been,
Cousin James was there before us. He stood in the middle of the dusty
road with the tousled mite in his arms, soothing her frightened sobs
against his cheek with the dearest tenderness and patting Sallie on the
back with the same comforting.

"Oh, Henrietta, how could you nearly kill your little sister like this?"
Sallie sobbed. "Please say something positive to her, James!"

"Henrietta," began Cousin James with a suspicion of embarrassment at
Polk's and my presence at the domestic scene. Polk choked a chuckle and
I could have murdered him.

"Wait a minute," said Henrietta, in her most commanding voice. "Sallie,
didn't you ask me to take that Pup from Aunt Dilsie, 'cause of the
phthisic, and keep her quiet while the Kit got a nap, and didn't I ask
you if it would be all right if I got her back whole and clean?"

"Yes, Henrietta, but you--"

"Ain't she whole all over and clean?"

"Yes, but--"