“Oh! father, look.”
“We know our friends,” said young Johnston.
“Dat we does. She 's de on'ies one as bet on him,” asserted old Robin. “Dat young lady knows a good hoss.”
“Who is that boy?” asked Mr. Newby, as the horse was led away.
“A green country boy with a pedigree,” said a low voice at his shoulder.
“Where does he come from!”
“Virginia,” said Colonel Ashland. “And his name is Theodoric Johnston. It 's bred in the bone.”
Next morning as young Johnston rode his horse out of the stable gate, old Robin walked at his side. Just in front of the pawn-shop Robin pulled out his watch and examined it carefully.
“I don' mind but one thing,” he said. “I did n't have dis yisterday to hol' de time on him. But nem mind: wait tell nex' season.”