Miss Hazel would give her a lump, but generally not; only
she'd pat her and talk to her, and look in her face, and then
Jeannie'd look right at her, and begin to follow round if Miss
Hazel just held out her hand. Some days she'd come all the way
up from the lodge just so,--not holding the bridle nor
nothing,--the prettiest sight you ever saw, sir! She didn't
call her Jeannie, either,--it was some short, queer name that I
never did quite hear, she'd say it so softly. Most like a
bird's talk, of anything.' Phoebe paused, smiling at the
remembrance.

It was well her hearer's nerves were in training. He waited,
knowing that he should best get the whole by allowing the yarn
to reel off unbroken; so now he only gave utterance to an
attentive 'But what next, Phoebe?'

'O, sir,' said the girl, suddenly sober again, 'one day--I
didn't know where she'd been, Miss Hazel, I mean,--but it was
afternoon, and she was coming home. And I was out under the
trees like to-day, taking in. And Miss Hazel stopped and sent
Lewis back, and came on alone to the steps, sir,--came like the
wind!--and jumped off. And then she off with her glove--and you
know what Miss Hazel's hand is, sir,--and the little white
thing began to fondle Jeannie Deans. Patting her neck, and
stroking her face, and combing out her mane, and fingering her
ears; and Jeannie she held her head down, and sideways, as if
she meant to give all the help _she_ could. And I was looking
on, just among the bushes like, when all in a minute Miss
Hazel put both her arms right round the horse's neck and laid
her head close down--and there she stood.'--Phoebe paused to
take breath.

'Not ill _then_, Phoebe?' said her hearer, in a very low tone.

'O, I don't know, sir!' answered Phoebe, her honest eyes all
in a flush. 'I don't know! For just as I ran up to see, Mr.
Lewis he came back; and the minute Miss Hazel heard, she was
off and away up the steps and into he house, and didn't even
wait to see if Lewis had found her handkerchief. But, Mr.
Rollo, she's never been to ride since that day; not once. And
sometimes when she looks round sudden, her eyes'll shine till
they frighten you!' And Phoebe wiped her own eyes with the
corner of her apron, and looked up for aid and comfort.

'But Phoebe,'-- and Collingwood here made an impatient movement
rather suddenly and had to be brought back to his business--
'what is the evidence of the _illness_ you speak about?'

'Nothing else ever