"Goodness knows I'm not thinking about the horses," said mother.
"No, but if they turned up next Sunday, wind-broken, and with nice large patches of hair rubbed from their sides, you would be! If you were me, would you whistle, or vocalize to start on?"
Mother burst right out crying and laid her face all tear-wet against him. Laddie kissed her, and wiped away the tears, teased her, and soon as he could he bolted from the east door; but I was closest, so I saw plainly that his eyes were wet too. My soul and body! AND I HAD DONE IT! I might as well get it over.
"I showed Mr. Pryor the trinket," I said.
"How did you come to do that?" asked father sternly.
"When he was talking with mother. He told her Laddie would be 'wasted' farming——"
"Wasted?"
"That's what he said. Mother told him you had always farmed and you were a 'power in this community.' She told him about what you did, because you wanted to, and what you COULD do if you chose, about holding office, you know, and that seemed to make him think heaps more of you, so I thought it would be a good thing for him to know about the Crusaders too, and I ran and got the crest. I THOUGHT it would help——"
"And so it will," said mother. "They constantly make the best showing they can, we might as well, too. The trouble is they got more than they expected. They thought they could look down on us, and patronize us, if they came near at all; when they found we were quite as well educated as they, had as much land, could hold prominent offices if we chose, and had the right to that bauble, they veered to the other extreme. Now they seem to demand that we quit work——"
"Move to the city, 'sit on a cushion and sew a fine seam,'" suggested father.