In
the avenue before the front entrance, stood Solon with the pretty grey
ponies, Prince and Princess, ready saddled and bridled, while on the
veranda sat a tall, dark-eyed, handsome youth, a riding whip in one hand,
the other gently stroking and patting the head of Bruno, as it rested on
his knee; the dog receiving the caress with demonstrations of delight.
A light, springing step passed down the broad stairway, crossed the hall,
and a slender fairy-like form appeared in the doorway. It was Violet, now
thirteen, and already a woman in height; though the innocent childlike
trust in the sweet fair face and azure eyes, told another tale.
"Good-morning, Eddie," she said. "I am sorry to have kept you waiting."
"Oh, good-morning," he cried, jumping up and turning toward her. "No need
for apology, Vi, I've not been here over five minutes."
He handed her gallantly to the saddle, then mounted himself.
"Try to cheer up, little sister; one should not be sad such a lovely
morning as this," he said, as they trotted down the avenue side by side.
"Oh, Eddie," she answered, with tears in her voice, "I do try, but I
can't yet; it isn't like home without them.
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