"She's inviting us in," Paul said.
Slowly, quietly, not to startle the little one, the Beebes went into the stall, and the gentlest of hands lifted her forelock that was only beginning to be a forelock. "Here's a girl's got a head on her," Grandpa approved. "There's enough Arabian into her to make that purty head. And ain't she marked up nice? Not a reg'lar map on her shoulders like her mommy, but she's got her four white stockings."
"And her color is sorrel, like Wings," Maureen said.
Dr. Finney looked at his watch, thinking of the calls still to be made.
Grandpa followed his glance. "If'n ye'll excuse us," he said, "we got to hyper along now. Any last-minute advice, Doc?"
"For now," Dr. Finney said, "avoid bulky food for Misty. Nothing rich or hard to digest."
"How about ground oats and bran and linseed?" Paul asked hopefully.
"Couldn't be better! And no need to remind you children that daily mucking-out is a MUST."
Grandpa nodded vigorously, an "I-told-you-so" twinkle in his eye.
"Right now their stall is the cleanest in the whole wide world," Maureen said proudly.