“Lady Jane,” said Thomas, “where is your friend Joe?”
Lady Jane whinnied several times, and shook her head in the direction of the barn.
“I know he’s bedding the cows,” said Thomas, “but you go tell him I want him.”
Lady Jane galloped away, and presently returned with her teeth in the shoulder of the woolen sweater worn by the grinning Joe, who bobbed his head at his employer and guest.
The old gentleman began to speak. “This is almost equal to the thinking horses of Elberfeld.”
“Can you state to me,” asked Mr. Bonstone, “any reason why an American horse should not have as much brains as a German horse?”
“None whatever,” said the old gentleman. “Horses, like men, are created equal. Tell me, stableman, what is your system?”
“Haven’t any, sir,” said Thomas. “I treat ’em as if they had horse sense, and I find they’ve got it.”
“Cultivation, cultivation,” said the old gentleman several times, as he nodded his head. Then he asked, “Can they count?”