Paul came to the rescue. "We bought them for Misty's colt," he explained. "Sup-pli-ament-ary feeding, you know."
The guard snapped off his light and tweaked Paul's ear. "Ye got a bright boy here, Mr. Beebe. G'night, folks. Ye can move on now."
Home was clammy cold, and it had a stench of fish, and the bedroom rug with the roses was wet as a sponge. But it was Home! And Wait-a-Minute was there with a wild welcome, turning somersaults, then flying round and round like a whirling dervish.
"This floor is like walkin' on mucilage," Grandma said, "but no matter how messy, there's jes' no place like Pony Ranch."
Maureen sighed in agreement. Then she added soberly, "Even without the ponies."
"You forget," Paul corrected, "we still have Watch Eyes and Billy Blaze, and the mares in the hay house."
"And," Grandpa added with a crooked smile, "Wings' herd up to Tom's Place ... and with Misty expectin' ... and two goats and five cats, we got the beginnin's again."
"Grandma!" Maureen cried. "What's happened to the back of your dress?"