"Tie my shoe," she said, putting up one foot, peremptorily. "Are you hungry?" looking at him curiously, after he had done it, at the same time holding up a warm seed-cake she was eating to his mouth. He was ashamed that the spicy smile tempted him to take it. He put it away, and seated her on his foot.
"Let me ride you plough-boy fashion," he said, trotting her gently for a minute.
Her father passed them.
"You must pardon me," said Yarrow, with a bow. "I used to ride my boy so, and"—
"Eh? Yes. Sudy's a good girl. You've lost your little boy, now?" looking in Yarrow's face.
"Yes, I've lost him."
The blacksmith stood silent a moment, then went in. Soon after a tall man rode up on a gray horse; it had cast a shoe, and while the smith went to work within, the rider sat down by Yarrow on the trough, and began to talk of the weather, politics, etc., in a quiet, pleasant way, making a joke now and then. He had a thin face, with a scraggy fringe of yellow hair and whisker about it, and a gray, penetrating eye. The shoe was on presently, and mounting, with a touch of his hat to Yarrow, he rode off. The convict hesitated a moment, then called to him.
"I have a word to say to you," coming up, and putting his hand on the horse's mane.
The man glanced at him, then jumped down.