"Miss Kitty, if there is one thing under the canopy that I am sure of, it's that Doctor would approve. Doctor, you see, was reasonable. He'd see right off that here on one side was hosses to be fed, and grain costin' thus and so; and hosses to be exercised, or they'd go lame and poor. And he'd see on the other side, here was folks needin' to be hauled, and no one to haul 'em. Well, then Doctor would say,--'pears like I could hear him, and have heard him right along, 'When you're dealin' with hosses,' he'd say, 'you need hoss sense.' And this is hoss sense, Miss Kitty, or I don't know it." Kitty rose and held out her little hand, to be engulfed in John Tucker's huge brown one. "That's enough, John Tucker!" she said; and up went her chin. "I can hear him, too. We will be partners, John: Tucker and Ross! Only you will do all the work, John Tucker dear, I know you will." John Tucker, looking at her, fell into such a glowing state that the stove was nowhere beside him. "Now there!" he said. "What did I tell you? She's her Pa's own gal!" "And now I _must_ go and see Madam Flynt! You say she knows all about the Great Plan, John?" "And approves! Madam Flynt is a real sensible woman." He followed Kitty out of the harness-room, and they moved instinctively to the stalls, where two dark satin heads were thrust eagerly forward, two velvet noses sneezed and sniffed in eager greeting. "You darlings!" cried Kitty. "No, Dan, no more sugar. You are not a pet lamb any more, dear: you are a Horse of Business, and must realize your responsibilities. I shall drive Madam Flynt myself, John, most days." "I thought likely you would!" chuckled John. "You'll have to go keerful, though, Miss Kitty; it's slow and sure with Madam Flynt. None of your Bible doin's with her along!" "Bible doings? What _do_ you mean, John Tucker?" John Tucker chuckled again. "I was only thinkin' of Doctor!" he said. "'A daughter of Jehu, for behold she driveth furiously'." CHAPTER V THE NEIGHBORS Madam Flynt was evidently expecting Kitty. She was ready dressed and in the drawing-room: the large, bright room with its hangings of apple green and gold brocade, its gilded cornices and fire screen. Dr. Ross used to say that the room was an apple-tree bower, and Madam Flynt the apple; indeed, she did look like one, a Bellefleur, say, or a rosy Porter. A woman of sixty, large, massive, fair. Her hair was faded from the bright gold of her girlhood, but was still yellow; her eyes were China blue, her cheeks apple red. The color was so set in them (no one had ever seen Madam Flynt pale, even in sickness) that a stranger might well think it clumsy art, instead of--what shall I say, over-zealous Nature? The story ran that one day in her youth, walking along the street, she heard a stranger say after passing her, "Painted, by God!" She turned instantly. "Yes, sir," she said calmly, "I _am_ painted by God!"