To go back to the events of the early morning. Why had that two-legged tyrant, who always responded so promptly to the vulgar name of Gabe whenever Amanda hailed him from the kitchen door, harnessed the mare and driven off, leaving them deprived of their customary liberty, and without a word of explanation? The act was contrary to the Professor’s most sacred principle of equity for all living creatures, whether having four legs or only two.
“And yet just now you led us in our supplications to Amanda,” observed Mrs. Cowslip. “Why did you not remind the Professor of our—”
“Ah!” broke in Gustavius, “you can trust the Professor to understand the needs of a bull-calf.”
“You don’t have to ask the Professor twice when you want your back scratched,” grunted Reginald, his tail kinking tighter than ever with delicious memories.
“The Professor has a large, round, and most inviting stomach,” commented William. “Never before have I spared such a stomach. Yet never have I felt the slightest inclination to butt the Professor.”
Mrs. Cowslip turned her mild eyes inquiringly on the colt. “I suggest,” she said, “that we remind the Professor—”
“My gracious!” interrupted Clarence with impatience. “Can’t you fellows remember anything over-night? The Professor drove off behind my mother yesterday morning. There was a box beside him in the wagon. He wore his high hat. Mother came home without him. There’s nobody left in the house but Amanda and that two-legged Gabe.”
Just then Gustavius tossed his immature horns and bellowed:—
“Amanda! Amanda!”
With an apron over her head and a tin pail on her arm, Amanda had come into view beyond the angle of the barn.