"A very good colour," I replied.
"Then, you see, I could call him 'Black Prince'," he went on. "I couldn't call him 'Black Prince' if I made him brown, could I? I'd have to call him 'Brown Prince'. Have you ever heard of a horse called 'Brown Prince'?"
"Not to my recollection," I said, with my eyes on my book.
"It is a funny name, isn't it?" he said laughing, as he continued his work. "Brown Prince!"
"Very," I said shortly, interested in my story, and not inclined to encourage conversation.
Chris worked on for a few moments without speaking; then asked:
"Miss Beggarley, what colour are moons gennerly?"
I laughed. It was, after all, a futile hope to continue reading under the circumstances. Still, it was Chris's time with Granny and me, when he exacted as his right an unlimited amount of attention, so I resigned myself.
"What colour?" he repeated, as I did not at once answer.
"Green," I answered.