“And why can’t he buy his own horses?”
“That infant? Why his last horse died of old age at four!”
“And what about that sensible daughter of his?”
“She hasn’t got horse-sense,” said Jinny, smiling.
“Well, I don’t see how it comes into your business.”
“A carrier has to buy whatever she’s asked.”
“Whatever she can carry. You can’t carry a horse.”
“No, but it can carry me. Besides, I’ve often carried a calf or a pig, and where am I to draw the line?”
“You’ll be buying elephants next,” he said, with a bitter remembrance of Mr. Flippance’s story.
“I’m too old for gingerbread,” she replied unexpectedly. “But I haven’t forgotten the one you gave me once.” He trembled under her radiant gratitude, with its evocation of the poetry of childhood. But a convulsive bound forward on the part of Nip broke up the argument. “Ah, here’s Farmer Gale coming along,” she said cheerfully.