The Jalna Saga – Deluxe Edition: All Sixteen Books of the Enduring Classic Series & The Biography of Mazo de la Roche (494 page)

“It doesn’t look sore,” he said.

“I wish you had it.”

“I’d rather have it than my tonsils. They have got to come out, the doctor says.”

“I saw a horse at the Queenstown fair that had had his tonsils out.”

“Did it bleed much?”

“I don’t know. I wasn’t there. But it saved his life.”

“I expect having mine out will save mine.”

“A lot of expense and trouble for a small thing,” observed Roma.

Archer made a pass at the bottle of liniment. Adeline took it from Roma. “That’s enough,” she said. “Now I must attend to my leg.” She pulled up the leg of her breeches and disclosed a knee, with a deep rasp on it.

Roma drew back but Archer leant close, his high white forehead giving him a profound look. Adeline produced a bottle of iodine. He begged:

“Please, Adeline, let me put it on! I won’t hurt you half as much as you’d hurt yourself. Please do!” He tried to take possession of the swab she had made.

She hesitated, then said firmly, “No. I’ll do it myself.” She immersed the swab in the iodine, looked at the bloody knee, looked at Roma and Archer pathetically. “Oo, how I hate to !” she said. “It will hurt like the dickens.”

“Let Archer do it,” said Roma.

“No.”

“I’ll put my arm round you,” said Archer.

This he did, leaning rather heavily on her. She set her teeth. She pressed the swab to her knee. Colour flooded her face. Again and again she sterilized the rasped place. She handed the swab to Roma, then sat down and rocked herself.

A knock came on the door. The handle turned. Alayne’s voice said,

“why have you locked the door, Adeline?”

“So Archer wouldn’t bother me.”

“Well, let me in, dear, I want to speak to you.”

Adeline pointed under the bed. Silently Archer scrambled beneath it. Adeline kicked her muddy pullover after him. She drew down the leg of her breeches and opened the door. Alayne came in, noting with distaste that peculiar air of squalor which children are able to impart to the rooms they occupy. She said:

“So you are changing, Adeline. That’s right. What a smell of iodine!”

“I scratched my finger,” said Roma. She went to the medicine cupboard and, before returning the bottle to it, stuck her finger in the iodine. She held up the finger in front of Alayne who remarked:

“That is right. It’s well to be careful.” Then she turned to Adeline. “Did you know,” she asked, “that Archer has been playing truant from school?”

“I knew he’d been a little late.”

“How did you know?”

“He remarked that he’d been a little late.”

“A little late!” cried Alayne. “Yesterday he did not arrive till afternoon.”

“I expect it’s his tonsils. They’re poisoning his system and making him tired.”

“I suppose they are, poor little fellow. But how I dread his having them out!”

“He’ll be all right, Mummy. If you’ll let me, I will go with him to the hospital.”

Alayne gave a little laugh. “You know you are suggesting the impossible, Adeline.”

The child flushed. Alayne noticed her beautiful back, her shoulders where the dark auburn waves of her hair floated. Alayne gave her a pat, then sniffed her hand. “Liniment! what is the matter?”

“I’m a bit stiff. Roma was rubbing my back. Jester is quite a one to pull, you know, Mummy.”

“Adeline, if you knew how I dislike your riding that horse! If your father were here I don’t think he’d want you to. I don’t think Jester is suitable for a girl to ride.”

“Oh, Mummy, you don’t know what you’re talking about!”

Alayne’s voice came sharply. “Adeline, I will not have you speak to me like that.”

“Sorry. But, really, if you’d ever ridden him you’d think he was perfect. He canters like an angel.”

“Well, someone else can ride him at the Ormington Show. I’ll not endure the thought of your riding that temperamental creature in such a big show. He’s terrifying.”

“If I don’t, who will?”

“Wright can ride him.”

“He can’t! He’s too severe with him. Jester hates Wright! He loves me! I’ll get a big price for him, you’ll see.”

“Adeline, don’t be foolish. You must listen to me. We can hire someone to ride Jester. Anyhow we are not dependent on the sale of one horse.”

“It will make three I’ve sold.”

Alayne tried to speak patiently. “I know. You have done very well. But the time has come for you to — to —” She hesitated.

Adeline’s luminous eyes, with the changeful lights in their brown depths, were fixed on hers.

“To what?” she asked.

“Well, you’re thirteen. You’re not just a little girl. The people you meet at these fall fairs and horse shows aren’t always the sort you should associate with. It isn’t as though I were there with you.”

“Come with me, then.”

“And stand for hours among horses and grooms and queer people? You know how I’d hate it.”

“Lots of the people aren’t queer.”

“I know. But the atmosphere would be very uncongenial to me. It would be impossible. You are quite aware of that.”

“Auntie Pheasant and Maurice would go with me, in the car.”

Alayne was losing patience. She said, “Now, let us have an end to this. I forbid you to go.”

Adeline’s breast heaved. She gave a hard sob, then controlled herself. “Just this once,” she pleaded.

“At the next show it would be just the same.”

“It’s almost the end of the season.”

“You are getting behind with your school work.”

“who cares!” Adeline cried, defiantly.

“Now you are being just stupid,” Alayne said coldly. “I care. Your father cares very much. You think because he likes to see you ride, that your riding is most important to him but he is anxious to see you well educated. I think I have made a mistake in letting you have his room. Because it is covered with pictures of horses and trophies, you have got the idea that he cares for little else! You are quite mistaken. He admires culture in a woman and, I may tell you, he admired it in me.”

Roma kept blowing on the finger she had dipped in the iodine. Alayne asked irritably:

“why do you do that?”

“It stings.”

Roma held up the finger.

“I can see no cut.”

“It’s under the nail.”

“I think you are making an unnecessary fuss over it.”

Roma’s eyes grew large, as they did when she was reproved.

Alayne had had to turn from Adeline. There had been something in her face that had the power of rousing a desire to hurt her, not physically but by a calculated thrust against her personal egotism. Now Alayne, her hand on the door knob, turned away.

“Tidy this room. I must go to Archer,” she said and left.

Archer threw Adeline’s pullover from under the bed, then crept out, got stiffly to his feet like an old man, and walked over the pullover. He went to the window and observed:

“I see three men in a car going to the stable.”

Adeline leaped to his side.

“It’s Mr. Crowdy and Mr. Chase!” she cried excitedly. “They’ve brought a man to see Rosina. They said they would. Wright and I’ve been expecting him all the week!”

She snatched her pullover from the floor and dragged it over her head. She pulled up her breeches and tightened her belt.

“I’m coming too,” said Roma.

“No. You stay and tidy the room. Tell Mummy I’m studying. I’ll buy you a big chocolate bar tomorrow. I’ve got to see these men.”

“I’m coming,” declared Archer.

She turned to him fiercely. “No!’ She ran lightly down the stairs and out of the house. The three dogs were waiting outside. When she opened the door the little Cairn terrier darted into the house and up to Nicholas’ room but the other two ran with Adeline to the stables, the bobtailed sheepdog in loose shaggy movements, the bulldog solidly, with sturdy purpose.

The stable was brightly lighted by the electric lights, though outside the Western sky was still aflame. The four men were in Rosina’s loose box. She was a delicately made mare who could be intractable when things did not go to please her. She moved toward Adeline as she entered, as though to tell her that at this moment she was not too well pleased.

“Here’s my young lady,” said Wright, and the other three took off their hats.

One of them was a stranger to Adeline but the others she had known as long as she could remember. Chase was a lawyer who had been too indifferent to his profession to succeed in it. He had drifted quite naturally into the profession of horse dealing. He did not make a very good living at it but he was a single man who wanted little. If it had not been for his friend, Crowdy, he might often have been in financial straights, but Crowdy had the flair for picking a likely horse at a low cost, while Chase supplied the gentlemanly element that carried many a deal through. Now, with ceremony, he introduced the somewhat nervous buyer to Adeline.

“This young lady,” he said, “knows as much about horseflesh as any man. She’s carrying on the business with Wright here, while her father, Colonel Whiteoak, is overseas.”

“She,” declared Crowdy, “is A 1 in all respects.”

Adeline gravely shook hands with the stranger.

“Welcome to our stables,” she said, as she had heard her father say.

“This here gentleman,” said Wright, “has come to look at Rosina. He likes her looks but he thinks she’s high-strung. He’s buying for a lady friend who’s not much of a rider.”

“She’s as nervous,” said the stranger, “as seven thousand cats.”

Adeline gravely considered this. Then, “This is her horse,” she said. “Your lady friend couldn’t fall off her if she tried. Any more than she could fall off a rocking chair.”

“And she’s pretty as a picture,” put in Chase.

“And dirt cheap at the price,” added Crowdy. “Did you say to me the other day that someone has an option on her?”

“Well, no,” answered Adeline, “not exactly an option. But he’s coming back tomorrow.”

“Well, well, tomorrow, you say? Would you mind telling me his name?”

Adeline turned to Wright. “what is his name, Wright?”

“Miller,” answered Wright. “In the brewery business.”

“Would that be R.G. Miller?” asked the stranger.

“No, sir. This is J. J. Miller.”

“John James,” amended Adeline.

“A large portly man,” said Chase, “with a cast in his left eye.”

Crowdy tapped the thick palm of his left hand with the forefinger of his right. “My God, sir, I caution you, don’t let that man buy her. Your lady friend will never forgive you. You’ll miss the chance of a lifetime. I have no personal interest in this sale, mind you. I only do what I can to help Colonel Whiteoak who is off fighting his country’s battles while we’re safe at home.”

“That’s the truth,” said Wright, “and it comes from one who has ridden her in half-a-dozen shows.”

“Perhaps your lady friend doesn’t want a real show horse.” As Adeline spoke, a remote look came over her face.

“But that’s just what she does want. She may not ride at shows herself but she wants to show the animal and win prizes.”

Adeline turned to Wright. “Do you think it is light enough for me to put Rosina over a few jumps, just to show what she’s like?”

“It’s still bright in the west, miss.”

Still wearing the remote air, Adeline went with the men to the paddock where half a dozen white-painted hurdles lent an air of purpose. She mounted the mare and, in a preliminary canter, showed her style. The mare’s beauty and the child’s grace were well matched. The swallow on his flight was scarcely better poised. Then thudding over the turf they came and cleared the hurdles, one after the other, without a tick.

Crowdy turned to the prospective buyer. “Ever see the like of that? Ain’t she a winner?” But whether it was mare or child he designated he did not say.

“That’s a sight,” said Chase, “in these contemptible days, when the motor car has pushed the horse into limbo and all a young fellow thinks of is getting a swell car or, if he hasn’t means for that, a motorcycle. God!” The deity’s name was uttered on a note of indescribable despair.

When Adeline had dismounted, Wright, with the bridle over his arm, said, “Well, sir, have you made up your mind?”

“I’ll buy her,” returned the man, “if you’ll take fifty dollars off the price.”

Without hesitation Wright answered, “I couldn’t think of it, sir. I’m here to get a just price for Colonel Whiteoak’s horses. I couldn’t face him, if I’d been giving them away.”

“Especially,” said Crowdy, “when he’s fighting for his country and we’re safe at home. It wouldn’t seem right to beat down the price.”

“If he were here,” added Chase, “he’d say take it or leave it and be damned.”

As Adeline limped back toward the house she sang a joyful, though rather tuneless, song of triumph. The bargain had been clinched. The mare sold. She had done her part and done it well. But how her knee hurt! She would bathe it in hot water before she went to bed.

Inside the house she could hear that the family were at table. She limped softly upstairs. She washed face and hands and then brushed her hair, not attempting to get out the tangles. She took off her pullover and breeches and put on a little cotton dress she had outgrown but which still served for evenings at home. She must not wear socks. She must not show that awful-looking knee. She drew on a pair of the long black stockings she wore at school and hastened down to the dining room. She was about to seat herself when Alayne stopped her.

“Wait a moment,” she said, peremptorily, but with a quiver in her voice, “and tell me why you went back to the stables after I had told you to dress.”

“Yes,” added Nicholas, “we want to know what you were up to.” There was a mischievous gleam in his deep-set eyes.

Oh, that ever-recurring “we,” thought Alayne. It dragged her down to the level, in authority, of old great-uncles!

Adeline answered, “I had left my books in the stable. I had to go back for them.”

“And it took you three-quarters of an hour to find them! You can scarcely expect me to believe that.”

“when I got to the stable there was something interesting going on, so I stayed.”

“That’s right,” put in Ernest, “tell the truth. You’ll get a lighter punishment if you are truthful.” His forget-me-not blue gaze beamed encouragement at the child.