There were some fine box stalls there on the south side of the barn. Glory and Dungeon came forward, and put their heads out, expecting to receive a dainty of some kind.
“We have nothing now,” said Mrs. Denville. “The next time we come, we will bring you some bread or lumps of sugar—what fine big creatures you are! Mary, here is a pony,” and she passed to the next stall.
“That is the children's pony,” said Denno who at this moment came down from the ladder. “They call him Ponto.”
The pony was very affectionate and gentle, and Mary could hardly bear to leave him. He was a dapper little fellow with a fine arched neck, and silky mane, and beautiful eyes.
“Come, I want to see the cows,” said Mrs. Denville. “I wish to see the source of your excellent milk supply.”
The cow stalls ran all along the other side of the barn. Denno took us in, for Mrs. Denville was rather nervous.
“They wouldn't hurt you, ma'am,” he said; “still, if you're frightened, don't go too close.”
“This is Miss Molly,” he said, pointing to a fine red cow who had a chain round her neck, and was having a good feed of something from a box. “She is no particular breed, but a grand milker. This is a Jersey,” and he passed to the next stall.
“Oh, what eyes, mamma,” murmured Mary, “what eyes.”
The cow had eyes like big brown ponds. They were beautiful country eyes, and she turned them on us in a calm and deliberate way.