"How do you know that? He's down in that terribly hot, smelly jail. If he did get sick, who would know it?"
"And Boyar isn't a human being. He can't reason."
"Oh, Uncle Walter! I thought you knew horses better than that. Boyar can reason much better than most people."
"The proof being that he prefers you to any one else?"
"No," replied Louise, smiling mischievously. "That isn't Boyar's reason; it's his affection. That's different."
"Yes, quite different," said Walter Stone. "Is this boy good-looking?" And the rancher fumbled in his pocket for a cigar.
Louise slipped from the arm of his chair and stood opposite him, her lips pouted teasingly, the young face glowing with mischief and fun. "Am I?" she asked, curtsying and twinkling. "'Cause if you're going to ride down to the valley to see the boy just because Beautiful asked you, Beautiful will go alone. But if you come because I want you,"—and Louise smiled bewitchingly,—"why, Beautiful will come too, and sing for you—perhaps."
"My heart, my service, and my future are at your feet, Señorita Louisa, my mouse. Are your eyes gray or green this morning?"
"Both," replied Louise quickly. "Green for spunk and gray for love. That's what Aunty Eleanor says."
"Come a little nearer. Let me see. No, they are quite gray now."