Jean had proceeded well along upon her way when she was spied by two or three urchins upon whose hands time was hanging rather heavily, and to whom the novel sight of a handsome, neatly-clad child, perched in a phaeton which might have been designed for Noah, and driving a blind horse, was a vision of joy.
“Hi, Billy, get on ter de swell rig,” bawled one worthy son of McKim’s Hollow.
“Gee! Aint he a stunner! Say, where did yer git him?” yelled Billy, prompt to take up the ball, and give it a toss.
“Mebbe he’s de ghost av yer granfather’s trotter,” was the next salute.
“Hi, what’s his best time. Forty hours fer de mile?” asked a larger lad, hanging on to the back of the phaeton and winding his heels into the springs.
“Get down! Go away!” commanded Jean.
“Couldn’t,” politely replied her passenger.
“Say yer oughter have a white hawse wid all dat red hair,” yelled a new addition to the number already swarming after her.
“Git a move on,” was the next cry, as a youth armed with a long stick joined the crowd. Things were growing decidedly uncomfortable for Jean whose cheeks were blazing, and whose eyes were flashing ominously. Just then one urchin made a grab for the whip but she was too quick for him, and once having it in her hand was tempted to lay about vigorously. As though divining her thoughts, the smaller boys drew off but he of the stick scorned such an adversary, although discretion warned him not to lay it upon her. The old horse, however, was not so guarded by law and the stick descended upon his flanks with all the strength of the young rowdy’s arms. He would better have struck Jean!
Never since coming to live in his present home had Baltie felt a blow, but during all those four months had been petted, loved and cared for in a manner to make him forget former trials, and in spite of his age, renew his strength and spirits. True, he was never urged to do more than jog, jog, jog along, but under the spur of this indignity some of his old fire sprung up and with a wild snort of resentment he plunged forward. As he did so, down came the whip across his assailant’s head, for Jean had forgotten all else in her wrath; she began to lay about her with vigor, and the battle was on in earnest.