"You can't marry your aunt any more than you can marry your grandmother," said his father in a teasing tone.
"Jack is always thinking about marrying," flung out the brother. "It's a nasty way girls have."
"There! there! No disputing, or the new mother will think she has fallen into a hornets' nest. Go and get ready. I'll take a glance at the stables and see Dixon for a moment," and he turned away. But Louis caught his arm and kept step with him.
"Well, what is it?" he asked rather impatiently. "Money again? You young people think the well is exhaustless."
"No, it isn't money." His tone was a little husky. "Jerry is lame. I rode him rather hard one day—"
The squire smothered an oath. He had promised his young wife he would not swear at everything. It was a bad habit, a bad example to his boys.
"How did that come about? I told you Jerry was not to be taken on tramps. You young fellows have no sense."
"I was over to Kenyon's one day. They bet her against Kenyon's mare. I tried to get out of it—"
"And you were beaten! Served you right! My poor Jerry!" with a touch of desperate anger in the tone.
"No, I won!" There was a ring of elation in the young voice. "He came in five seconds ahead. There was a great time, you may be sure, and Kenyon was for trying it again. He thinks nothing can beat the mare. I think Jerry trod on something. His foot and leg have been swollen. Cato has him almost well, though."