“Oh, she’s fond of driving; yes.”
A slight pause, during which Bard coughed.
“It’s purty hard,” he said, clearing his throat, “to buy a horse that’s a good roadster and at the same time a good looker an’ quiet like; understand me.”
“Just so.”
“Now I’ve got a three-year-old mare here that ain’t never been beat in these here parts for looks. O’ course, I ain’t never even thought o’ sellin’ ’er. She was sired by the best Percheron that was ever led around this section.”
“Something fancy, I imagine.”
“She lifts her feet like a lady; she’s fast, and intelligent more’n the hired man.”
“What’s she worth?”
Bard laughed. “Well,” he replied “I hardly know, as I say, I never thought o’ lettin’ ’er go.”