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He had welcomed the girl the Helen of the old house this self-possessed young woman was quite a different person. She was the princess lady of little Maggie and Bobby Whaley's acquaintance, who sometimes condescended to recognize him with a cool little nod as her big automobile passed him swiftly by.
Whaley's with a little dress Mother made for the baby," she said at last. "It's a nice baby," was the best he could do. "Yes. It's funny. You know Mr. Whaley didn't care anything about it before while it was very little. But now he thinks it's wonderful. I'm so glad he does." She was beginning to get hold of herself, to emerge from the emotional crisis into which this meeting had plunged her.
That night, a little after sundown, he took passage in a downward-bound coaster, bid a long good-by to the Edisto and Colonel Whaley's plantation, and arrived in Charleston the next night. On the following morning he presented himself to the agents, who generously paid him, all his demands, and expressed their regrets at the circumstance.
The officially recognised weight for the toy variety is given as "under seven pounds," but none of the most prominent present-day winners reach anything like that weight; some in fact are little more than half of it, and the great majority are between 4 lb. and 5 lb. Probably the most popular specimens of the miniature Black and Tan at the present time are Mr. Whaley's Glenartney Sport and Mr.
No doubt the McRae girl was inside, waiting for them with a heart of fear fluttering in her bosom. Whaley's thin lips set grimly. Soon now it would be a show-down. There was a moment's delay at the door, each hanging back under pretense of working at the sled. There was always the chance that the one who went first might get a shot in the back.
"Well, why not?" demanded the cigar-stand philosopher, when Tom described that triumphant drive of Sam Whaley's children through the Flats. "Them kids was only doin' what we're all a-tryin' to do in one way or another." The lawyer, who had stopped for a light, laughed.
"Perhaps because of your interest in them," she retorted. "Who are they?" The Interpreter did not answer for a moment; then, with his dark eyes fixed on the heavy cloud of smoke that hung above the Mill and overshadowed the Flats, he said, slowly, "They are Sam Whaley's children. Their father works when he works in your father's Mill. I knew both Sam and his wife before they were married.
Whatever it is, nothing shall break my promise to you. I will be your wife, or no man's. But the shadow that is on Judge Whaley's face I fear no wife can drive away."
"Oh-ho, you are Sam Whaley's kids, heh?" "Uh-huh," returned Bobby. "An' I know who yer are, too." "So?" said the man. "Uh-huh, yer Jake Vodell, the feller what's a-goin' to make all the big bugs hunt their holes, and give us poor folks a chance. Gee, but I'd like to be you!" The man showed his strong white teeth in a pleased smile. "You are all right, kid," he returned.
The Interpreter received this warning from Jake Vodell exactly as he had listened to Bobby Whaley's boyish talk about blowing up the castle of Adam Ward on the hill. Rising abruptly, the agitator, without so much as a by-your-leave, went into the house where he proceeded to examine the books and periodicals on the table.
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