“Talking over old times, I s’pose?” said Silas.
“Yes!”
“I can hear them. It’s always the same when they get together—and I suppose you got sick of it and came out?”
“No, they put me out—asked me wouldn’t I like to look at the garden.”
Already she had banded herself with him in mild opposition to the elders.
“Great—Jerusalem. They’re just like a pair of old horses wanting to be left quiet and rub their nose-bags together. Look at the garden! I can hear them—come on and look at the horses.”
He led the way to a loose box and opened the upper door.
“That’s Flying Fox, she’s mine, the fastest trotter in the Carolinas—you know anything about horses?”
“Rather!”
“I thought you did, somehow. Mind! she doesn’t take to strangers. Mind! she bites like an alligator.”