“Why, so you have!” Grant exclaimed. “Come around here until I see them better.”
So encouraged, the little chap came skipping around the horses, and exhibited his braces for Grant’s admiration. But he had already become interested in another subject.
“Are these your horses?” he demanded.
“Yes.”
“Will they bite?”
“Why, no, I don’t believe they would. They have been very well brought up.”
“What do you call them?”
“This one is Prince, on the left, and the others are Queen, and King, and Knave. I call him Knave because he’s always scheming, trying to get out of his share of the work, and I make him walk on the plowed land, too.”
“That serves him right,” the boy declared. “What’s your name?”
“Why—what’s yours?”