Albert was messing about the buggy in leisurely fashion.

"Hurry, Albert!" came the deep voice.

"Yes, Miss," replied the other, more leisurely than ever.

"Bring that clothes-brush along and brush Mr. Silver's coat when you've
finished fooling," she said.

Then she took the rug from the buggy and went back to Goosey Gander.

The young man in his pink shirt-sleeves, his baggy white breeches, and
polo boots, was walking the old horse gravely up and down, talking to
him.

His back was to the girl, and she watched him with kind eyes.

She was thinking how like he and Goosey Gander were: good big uns both,
as her father would say; clean-bred, large-boned, great-hearted,
quiet-mannered. But the man was just coming into his prime, while the
horse was well past his.

"Hullo, Bill, old boy," said the young man in his quiet voice.

Billy answered deeply.

Silver had only come to Putnam's the night before for the first time,
but he and Billy Bluff were friends already. Boy Woodburn noticed it
with swift appreciation. In her young and entirely fallacious judgment
there were few shrewder judges of character than Big Dog Billy.