Mrs. Butler gave a ready permission, and Tad hounded away, running every foot of the mile and a half to the Langdon farm, where old Jinny was turned over to him, together with a brand new halter and an old harness which the grocer had directed his man to furnish with the mare.
Tad petted and fondled the wheezy old creature, who nosed him appreciatively.
"How old is Jinny?" he asked.
"Going on twelve," answered the farm-hand laconically.
Tad opened the mare's mouth, which he studied critically.
"Humph!" he grunted, flashing a glance of disapproval at the farm-hand.
"What's that, younker? I said as she was going on twelve."
"I guess you have dropped five years out of your reckoning somewhere," answered the boy. "Jinny is past seventeen. But it's all right. It is all the same to me. I don't care if she's a hundred," decided Tad, picking up the halter and leading the mare from the yard.
"Hope she don't run away with ye," jeered the farm-hand, as boy and horse passed out into the highway. But to this Tad made no reply. He was too fully occupied with his new happiness to allow so little a thing as the farm-hand's opinion to disturb him.
Once out of sight of the farm buildings, the lad pulled the mare to one side of the road, where he examined her carefully.