"You cut along," Jim's drawl broke in, "and get ready if you want to
ride."

Mr Thornycroft tucked Deb into the pony-carriage with the solicitude of
a mother fixing up a young baby going out with its nurse. He insisted
that she should wear a shawl over her linen jacket, and brought forth
an armful of softest WOOL, Indian wove.

"Where did you get this?" she asked, fondling it, for she loved fine
fabrics.

"Never mind," said he. "Put it on."

"I am suspicious of these shawls and fallals that Bundaboo seems
full of. Who is the hidden lady?"

He only smiled at her.

"Ah, godpapa, you spoil me!"

She drew the wrap about her, and he assisted to adjust it, with gentle
skill. Then he turned abruptly to Carey, as to a groom.

"See that she doesn't throw that off. It will be chilly presently. No,
she'd better drive--she knows the road. But take care of her.
Good-night."

"Isn't he an old dear?" said Deb to Carey, as they drove off. "He has
been a second father to me ever since I was a child."