The sun shone down upon the dusty little "square," and the foliage of the
big willow tree near Barnes' store looked as if frosted, such a thick
coating of dust lay upon the leaves.

At the trough beneath the tree an old gray horse stood alternately taking
a long draught of the clear water, and looking off across the square, as
if lost in meditation.

A dragon-fly with steely wings lit upon the trough and, skilled little
acrobat, balanced upon the extreme edge as if thus to take in the full
beauty of old Dobbin's reflection.

Exhaling a long breath as he lifted his shaggy head, the old horse sent a
shower of bright drops upon the dragon-fly who, considering the act to be
a great breach of etiquette, took zigzag flight across the sunny square,
and up the winding road toward the mill.

It looked as if Dobbin might drink the trough dry if he chose, for an
animated conversation was in progress at Barnes' store, and his master was
one of the leaders in every discussion, whether the topic chanced to be
political, or simply a tale of village gossip.

A chubby urchin made little hills of dust, using a well worn slipper for a
trowel, and Dobbin kicked and stamped impatiently, occasionally taking
another drink, and still the discussion went on.

"Naow I argy, that a leetle deestrict school wus good 'nough fer me, an'
look at me!