“They don't mean anything,” said the farmer with a burst of laughter. “When I get a new animal, a name for him crops right out of my mind. I don't know any reason for it.”
Mary looked him up and down. Up his broad back, and shoulders, and his thick neck, and big hat. Then she peeped round, and tried to obtain a more satisfactory glimpse of his face that had for some time been half turned toward her.
He was shaking with amusement, but no one knew what it was about. I don't think he knew himself. I think he just laughs because he feels happy.
Mary did not speak, and after a few minutes he composed himself and turned to speak to Mrs. Denville.
“Now, ma'am, just as you're getting played out, I expect, here we are at the Black River,” and he pulled up his big horses and made them stop short on the rustic wooden bridge.
CHAPTER XI
MAINE, LOVELY MAINE
Mona and Dolly came draggling along, paused at the brink of the river, then, as if to say, “You are too beautiful to be polluted by our muddy coats,” they came up on the bridge, and lay down by the carriage.
“This here river,” said Mr. Gleason warmly, “is to my mind, though one of the smallest, yet the prettiest we've got. Up there,” and he pointed his whip to the Green Hills, “it rises among the woods, and comes rushing down the steep slopes. Then it creeps into yonder belt of trees and finally comes out here, quiet and tired, and kind of spreads itself about in these pools to think a bit.”
No one spoke, and we all gazed earnestly at the lovely green pools fringed by the tall water grasses.
“And after its meditating is done,” continued the farmer, “it gathers itself up, and meanders down through the meadows till it reaches our farm, which it just about cuts in two, or unites, whichever way you choose to take it. Our place wouldn't be much without the river—get up, Glory and Dungeon,” and he urged on the big powerful horses.