“I feel like maybe—maybe—the calf’ll make me think it’s horses’ feet on the pavement.”
Lucinda rushed from the room.
“She wants the calf shod!” she cried, bursting in upon Joshua, who was piling wood.
For once in his life Joshua was shaken out of his usual placidity.
“She wants the calf shod!” he repeated blankly.
“Yes.”
“You can’t shoe a calf.”
“But she wants it done.”
Joshua regained his self-control.
“Oh, well,” he said, turning to go on with his work, “the calf’s gone to the butcher, anyhow. Tell her so.”