"You look kinder peaky-faced. Anything wrong?"
"Nothing," replied Mintie.
"You ain't a-worryin' about your Pap, air ye? I reckon he kin take keer of himself."
"I reckon he kin; so kin his daughter."
"Shall I put my plug into the barn?"
"We're mighty short of hay," said Mintie inhospitably.
Smoky Jack stared at her and laughed. Then he slipped from the saddle, pulled the reins over the horse's head, and threw the ends on the ground. With a deprecating smile he said softly--
"Air you very extry busy, Mints?"
"Not very extry. Why?"
"I've a notion to read ye something. It come to me las' Sunday week in the middle of the night. An' now it's slicked up to the Queen's taste."