“Yes, Uncle Peter,” said the child cheerfully, and they began the long, cold walk to town.
XV. AN ENCOUNTER
THAT horse,” said George Rapp, slapping the colt on the flank, “is as good a horse as you can get for the money in ten counties, and you won't find anybody that will offer what I do in trade for your old one. Nowhere.”
“You'd say that anyway, George Rapp,” said Mrs. Potter. “You ain't here to run down what you want to sell. Seems to me the colt acts skittish.”
“What you said you wanted was a young horse,” said Rapp with a shrug. “I don't know what you want. You want a young horse, and this is young, and you don't want a skittish horse, and all young horses are more or less that way.”
“What I want is a young, strong horse—” Mrs. Potter began.
“You've told me that a million times and two, and if you tell me it again I'll know it by heart well enough to sing it,” said Rapp. “There he stands, just like you say—a young, strong horse.”
“A skittish animal like this colt ain't fit for a woman to drive,” said Mrs. Potter.