"A Morgan-Cottrell, eh? I know by the jaw,"—jogging up the stubble-field beside him, her fat little satchel rattling as she walked. Doctor Blecker, a trifle graver and more assured than when we saw him last, sheltered her with his overcoat from the wind, taking it off for that purpose by the stile. You could see that this woman was one of the few for whom he had respect.
"Your wife understands horses, Doctor. And dogs. I did not expect it of Grey. No. There's more outcome in her than you give her credit for,"—turning sharply on him.
He smiled quietly, taking her satchel to carry.
"When we came to Pittsburg, I said to Pratt, 'I'll follow you to New York in a day or two, but I'm going now to see Paul Blecker's little wife. She's sound, into the marrow.' And I'll tell you, too, what I said to Pratt. 'That is a true marriage, heart and soul and ways of thinking. God fitted those two into one another.' Some matches, Doctor Blecker, put me in mind of my man Kellar, making ready the axes for winter's work, little head on big heft, misjoined always: in consequence, thing breaks apart with no provocation whatever. "When God wants work done down here, He makes His axes better,—eh?"
There was a slight pause.
"Maybe, now, you'll think I take His name in vain, using it so often. But I like to get at the gist of a matter, and I generally find God has somewhat to do with everything,—down to the pleasement, to me, of my bonnet: or the Devil,—which means the same, for he acts by leave.—Where did you get that Cottrell, Doctor? From Faris? Pha! pha! Grey showed me the look in his face this morning, innocent, naïf, as all well-blooded horses' eyes are. Like her own, eh? I says to Pratt, long ago,—twenty he was then,—'When you want a wife, find one who laughs out from her heart, and see if dogs and horses kinsfolk with her: that's your woman to marry, if they do.'"
They had stopped by the front-steps for her to finish her soliloquy. Grey tapped on the window-pane.
"Yes, yes, I see. You want to go in. But first,"—lowering her voice,—"I was at the Gurney house this evening."
"You were?" laughed the Doctor, "And what did you do there?"
"Eh? What? Something is needed to be done, and I—Yes, I know my reputation,"—her face flushing.