skittish. Keason why one should be, an' another not, I can't
comprehend. P'r'aps it's nat'ral, p'r'aps not, but howsomediver so
'tis; an' if it's more nor above the likes o' _me_, Joseph, you
needn't be suprised that it's somethink haltogether beyond _you_."

It will not surprise the reader to be told that Joseph made no reply
to this speech, having a very imperfect acquaintance with the English
language, especially the peculiar dialect of that tongue in which Tom
Whyte was wont to express his ideas, when he had any.

He merely gave a grunt, and continued to gaze at Tom's fishy eyes,
which were about as interesting as the face to which they belonged,
and _that_ might have been mistaken for almost anything.

"Yes, Joseph," he continued, "that's a fact. There's the noo brown
o'ss now, _it's_ a skittish 'un. And there's Mr. Kennedy's gray mare,
wot's a standin' of beside me, she ain't skittish a bit, though she's
plenty of spirit, and wouldn't care hanythink for a five-barred gate.
Now, wot I want to know is, wot's the reason why?"

We fear that the reason why, however interesting it might prove to
naturalists, must remain a profound secret for ever; for just as the
groom was about to entertain Joseph with one of his theories on the
point, Charley Kennedy and Harry Somerville hastily approached.

"Ho, Tom!" exclaimed the former, "have you got the miller's pony for
me?"

"Why, no, sir; 'e 'adn't got his shoes on, sir, last night--"