high, raw-boned animal, sketched on a generous plan, whose ribs
and joints protruded, and whose rough white coat had been
weather-worn to grey.

"Hush now, Mamie," he said; "'taint nothin'."

"Mamie" looked around inquiringly, with one ear erect and the
other at an angle. A cataract partially concealed one eye, but in
the other was a world of wickedness and knowledge, modified by a
certain lady-like reserve.

"G' long, Mamie!"

Ruth laughed as the horse resumed motion in mincing, maidenly
steps. "What's the other one's name?" she asked.

"Him? His name's Alfred. Mamie's his mother."

Miss Thorne endeavoured to conceal her amusement and Joe was
pleased because the ice was broken. "I change their names every
once in a while," he said, "'cause it makes some variety, but now
I've named'em about all the names I know."

The road wound upward in its own lazy fashion, and there were
trees at the left, though only one or two shaded the hill itself.
As they approached the summit, a girl in a blue gingham dress and
a neat white apron came out to meet them.

"Come right in, Miss Thorne," she said, "and I'll explain it to
you."