“I wasn’t growling.”
“No—but you was a-thinkin’ in them terms.”
“Well, I thought she was mine, Dad. You gave her to me when she was a colt. I never thought so much of any animals as I do of her, and, more than that, I never noticed anything wrong with her.”
“H’m!” sneered Bard. “You got to go into farmin’ a little deeper’n you do, to notice anything.”
Outside the door, the dog growled, then barked in an unfriendly tone. The sound of a horse’s hoofs in the lane and the squeaking of a buggy caused them to stop eating.
“Dave McBratney!” William announced presently, glancing through the window into the twilight. “I’d know that horse if I seen it in hell.”
Bard, after first loading his mouth, rose to open the door.
“Good evenin’, Dave!” he said.
“Good night, Mr. Bard,” came a young man’s voice. “Wait till I tie up this here hoss. He’s liable to run away.”