"Nothing more than I have read. They are very docile, I believe, and a great many of our clothes come from their backs."
"But that isn't all." There was the wisdom of Solomon on the fresh young face, shadowed by disarranged tresses. "Some of them have horns, like a cow, only they grow back instead of out. And they'll run you sometimes, when they take a notion. Can you run, Mr. Stone?"
The picture which came to my mind of the staid and dignified Abner Stone flying across a meadow with coat-tails streaming, and an irate ram at his heels, brought a broad smile to my face.
"Yes; I can run. But I promise not to desert you if danger comes."
"Then be ready in the morning. I will say good-night again, for I know you must tell this day's doings to your pipe before you retire."
Our entire conversation at the foot of the stair had been in low whispers, and I whispered back her good-night, and turned to go. Then, like Lot's wife, I looked behind me. She had reached the first landing, where the stairway curved. She saw me, and peered forward, holding the candle above her head. The loose sleeve of her dress fell back with the motion, and the bare symmetry of her rounded forearm gleamed upon the blackness like ivory upon ebony. I waved my hand; she waved hers, then was gone.
I sank into a chair and bowed my head in my hands, my soul torn by the pangs of a new birth.