"You're always preaching, yourself; I suppose that's why you didn't attend," grinned Scott Parsons.
"My Yankee horse is sick," said Peter, "and I couldn't leave him. How did it go?"
"We ran him out," laughed Douglas. "We gave him a chance to give us real talk but he couldn't come across, so we roped him and ran him."
"I thought that would happen. Poor Fowler!" Peter's voice was grave.
"Listen, Peter," cried Judith, "I want to ask you a favor."
She mounted the steps and stood before the man. She was as thin as he and as straight. Peter looked down at her, still scowling.
"Now, Peter, listen! You know I love Swift and wouldn't hurt her for anything."
"Wouldn't hurt her! Haven't I told you a hundred times that running a horse through drifts like you do ruins 'em? No, don't try to soft-soap me, Judith! When you kids want a favor from me, don't come up with your horses dripping sweat in below zero weather."
He jerked Sister back into the building and slammed the door.
Judith turned. "Well, we can all go over to Inez' place. She asked us."