"John is so taken up with the creatures sometimes, that he forgets his own meal times until long after everything is cold."
"I am afraid Eric will not be much better, for it seems to me dumb animals of all kinds are greater favourites with him than men and women, and as soon as he came near the fields where the horses were he could talk of nothing else."
"I wish the boy was a Methodist," said Mrs. Consett with a sigh. "We have had several lads, you know, and somehow, being with the beasts, or rather going with them to the city, as they have to do sometimes, leads them into temptation, and I am sorry to say that after they have left us, they have not been much good to anybody. That is why John said he would do without a lad, unless he could get one who was a Methodist, and could be treated as we would treat a son of our own if we had one." And again the good woman sighed, for this had been a sorrow to herself and her husband for many years now, that with all the prosperity that had crowned their labours here, there was no child given them to share or inherit the farm.
The two had their dinner, after waiting some time for Mr. Consett and Eric to return, and just as it was over, the master came hurrying across the field alone.
"Why, what can have happened to Eric?" asked Sister Martin, who was the first to see the farmer coming. "I hope he has not been hurt by any of those creatures. I don't fancy he would be very careful to keep out of their way."
"He would not be of much use here if he was afraid to go near a horse," laughed Mrs. Consett.
But just then her husband reached the garden gate, and she went to meet him.
"Dinner ready?" he called, in a cheery voice.
"Dinner ready?" she repeated reproachfully. "Sister Martin and I got tired of waiting for you, and so we had our meal without you. Where is the boy?" she asked, seeing Eric did not appear.
"Left him to look after Meg's foal; something ails her, and she wants seeing to for an hour," replied Mr. Consett.