He stood at the mare’s head, patting her slender, glossy neck and combing her mane with his fingers, telling the girls and Tommy her history, how she had belonged to Molly Bawn, their old mare, and how his father had broken her to harness himself.
“But she never had to be really broken in. Sally and I started riding her bareback when she was out in pasture and she was just as tame as a kitten. She understands anything you say to her. Mother hated to sell her to Mr. Willetts, but we had to, and as I was working for him, why, she didn’t know any difference. She’s used to a good deal of petting—”
“Oh, we’ll all pet her,” Jean promised. “We must get a saddle and harness. Do you know where we can get some?”
“Down at Mr. Butterick’s,” said Buzzy. “He’s the man who handles all sorts of riding equipment.”
“You have wonderful people up here,” Doris said fervently. “It seems as if whenever you want a certain kind of a person, there he is waiting for you. Where does Mr. Butterick live?”
“Down in Rocky Glen. Second house past the basket weaver, Mr. Tompkins.”
“Suppose we go over there tomorrow, kids,” Jean suggested. “Or do you have to take the mare over, Buzzy, and let Mr. Butterick sort of fit her with a harness and saddle? I wish I could put her in the barn right now.”
“Better get somebody to take care of her first,” Doris said practically. “We’d feed her fish cakes and doughnuts.”
Buzzy shifted his weight from one foot to the other uneasily.
“Don’t suppose you folks think of taking anybody on regularly, do you? Mother said I was to ask, and say if you wanted me I might come up. It’s nearer home than Mr. Willetts’ and there’s only Sally and Mom at home, and they need me to do the chores after I get home at night.”