“It wasn’t,” replied Dan firmly, but respectfully. “I did not know there was a loose place in the fence of the upper lot. You told me to let the bull in there and I did so. I could not help his breaking down the fence.”
“Did ye put th’ critter back safe?”
“Yes, sir, but it got Mr. Lee up a tree before I could do so,” and then, fearing Mr. Savage might get a wrong account of the various happenings from the persons involved, Dan told exactly what had happened.
“Wa’al, ye’re a nice sort of boy t’ have around a farm, I must say!” exclaimed Mr. Savage sarcastically. “Ye’re doin’ more harm than ye be good! Now I s’pose I’ll have a lot of damages t’ pay. Why don’t ye have some sense about ye? Good land o’ Tunket! I’ll be in the poorhouse ef I don’t look out.”
“I’m sorry it happened,” said poor Dan. “I didn’t—”
“Don’t talk t’ me!” interrupted Mr. Savage. “I’ve seen enough of ye fer one day. Here, ef ye kin do it without gittin’ int’ trouble, finish waterin’ them hosses. I’m goin’ t’ th’ village t’ see ef I can’t make some arrangement with Lee ’fore he sues me. He’s liable t’ do it.”
Dan was in very low spirits. Everything seemed to be going against him, and it is not to his discredit to say that he cried just a little as he fed the horses, and gave them water. He was very lonely, and he missed his mother very much.
As he entered the stall of the chestnut mare, an animal he frequently drove, the animal put her soft nose down on the boy’s shoulder.
“Good Bess,” he murmured. “I wonder if you care for me? There doesn’t any one else seem to around here.”
The mare whinnied, for she was fond of the boy, who was always kind to her.