"You will see; I can't stop to explain now," answered Mark, showing more and more agitation. "If you can, I wish you would go right over now."
"Oh, well, I will," said Mr. Royden. "Let me carry my scythe to the other end of the swath. Come, Father Brighthopes, would you like to take a short walk?"
The old man, thinking he had exercised about enough for one forenoon, willingly left the meadow in company with Mr. Royden, Chester and Mark the jockey; having first, to the great amusement of the spectators, put on the farmer's loose coat, to avoid getting cold in his aged bones.
XXI.
THE SWAMP-LOT.
"What is the matter with your colt's eye?" asked Chester, as they walked amid the young corn.
"I am afraid it is spoilt," replied Mark, between his teeth.
"Spoilt! Not your new horse,—the splendid sorrel colt you got of Mr. Skenitt?"
"Yes; the splendid sorrel colt; if 'twas either of the others, I wouldn't care so much."