Smiling, Dr. Finney stopped his rubbing. He saw that all was well. Reluctantly he left the stall.
Minutes later he was on the telephone. Young David stood behind him, listening in amazement and disgust. How could grown-ups be so calm, as if they'd just come in from repairing a fence or pulling weeds? He wanted to do hand-springs, cartwheels, stand on his head! But there was his father's voice again, sounding plain and everyday.
"Yes, Paul. She delivered at dawn."
"A mare-colt, sound as a dollar."
"Yes, I'm making Misty a warm mash. Just waiting for it to cool a bit."
"No, Paul, she's just fine. Everything was normal."
"No, don't bring the nanny goat. Misty's a fine mother."
"Don't see why not. By mid-afternoon, anyway."