"Is your father at home?" asked the man with the horse.
James answered in the affirmative, and the other led his animal into the yard, making him dance around him as he approached the little group under the cherry-tree.
Even with hunger in prospective, Sam could not apply himself to the churn when he thought there was any fun going on out-doors. He hobbled out, and took his seat on the grass.
All the children were praising Mark's new horse, which he took especial delight in training before their eyes. At length he led him up to the tree, and talked to him coaxingly, smoothing his face and patting his shining neck.
"Where did you get that plaything?" asked Chester, coming out of the house.
"Ha, how do you do, Ches?" replied Mark, turning around. "When did you get home?"
He tied the halter to the tree, and began to feel of the animal's slender ankles, still maintaining a mysterious silence on the subject of his trade.
"Did you put away the brown horse for this?" asked Chester.
"Where is your father?" was Mark's unsatisfactory rejoinder.
Mr. Royden made his appearance. He was a famous judge of horse-flesh, and his shrewd eye examined the colt's admirable points with evident satisfaction.