"Faith and I did," cried Harry. "And play 'em a weddin' march on me whistle I did, soft as a spring rain and swate as the very joy they do be feelin' this day. A king he looked, Billy, and his bride a quane, ivery inch av her. But no more av your questions now," he broke off, "fer step along I must, singin' me thankfulness from me whistle, and spakin' the good tidings to them I mate along the way."
Billy watched the old man move down the path, the wild strains of the Irish tune he was playing falling on his ears long after the player had been swallowed up in the golden haze. Then he too passed on, bay Thomas walking sedately behind. As he rounded a bend he met Maurice Keeler and Jim Scroggie, heads close together and speaking animatedly.
"Ho, Bill!" cried Maurice. "Bringin' bay Thomas up to the stable fer winter, eh? Gee! Jim, look at that horse; did you ever see such a change in anythin' in your life?"
"Thomas has sure fattened up," grinned Jim. "I guess it would puzzle old Johnston to know our horse now, eh, Bill?"
"You mean your horse, Jim," corrected Billy.
"No, I don't either; he's only a third mine. One third's yours and the other third's Maurice's."
Maurice and Billy stared at him. "It was your money paid fer him," Billy asserted.
"Well, what of it? Maurice found him a soft hidin' place and good pasture on his Dad's farm, didn't he?"
"Sure, but then—"
"And it's you who's gain' to see that he gets cared for all winter, ain't it?"