“No, no! I not tire--I brang da wood.” And then Jennie said she never meant it, and Carl knew she didn't, of course; and then she said she had never thought of such a thing, and he agreed to that; and they talked so long over it, standing out in the radiance of the noonday sun, the color coming and going in both their faces,--Carl playing aimlessly with his tippet tassel, and Jennie plaiting and pinching up the ruined apron,--that the fire in the kitchen stove went out, and the Big Gray grew hungry and craned his long neck around the shed and whinnied for Carl, and even Stumpy the goat forgot his hair-breadth escape, and returned near enough to the scene of the robbery to look down at it from the hill above. There is no telling how long the Big Gray would have waited if Cully had not come home to dinner, bringing another horse with Patsy perched on his back. The brewery was only a short distance, and Tom always gave her men a hot meal at the house whenever it was possible. Had any other horse been neglected, Cully would not have cared; but the Big Gray which he had driven ever since the day Tom brought him home,--“Old Blowhard,” as he would often call him (the Gray was a bit wheezy),--the Big Gray without his dinner! “Hully gee! Look at de bloke a-jollying Jinnie, an' de Blowhard a-starvin'. Say, Patsy,”--lifting him down,--“hold de line till I git de Big Gray a bite. Git on ter Carl, will ye! I'm a-goin'--ter--tell de--boss,”--with a threatening air, weighing each word--“jes soon as she gits back. Ef I don't I'm a chump.” At sight of the boys, Jennie darted into the house, and Carl started for the stable, his head in the clouds, his feet on air. “No; I feed da horse, Cully,”--jerking at his halter to get him away from Cully. “A hell ov 'er lot ye will! I'll feed him meself. He's been home an hour now, an' he ain't half rubbed down.” Carl made a grab for Cully, who dodged and ran under the cart. Then a lump of ice whizzed past Carl's ear. “Here, stop that!” said Tom, entering the gate. She had been in the city all the morning--“to look after her poor Tom,” Pop said. “Don't ye be throwing things round here, or I'll land on top of ye.” “Well, why don't he feed de Gray, den? He started afore me, and dey wants de Gray down ter de brewery, and he up ter de house a-buzzin' Jinnie.” “I go brang Mees Jan's apron; da goat eat it oop.” “Ye did, did ye! What ye givin' us? Didn't I see ye a-chinnin' 'er whin I come over de hill--she a-leanin' up ag'in' de fence, an' youse a-talkin' ter 'er, an' ole Blowhard cryin' like his heart was broke?” “Eat up what apron?” said Tom, thoroughly mystified over the situation. “Stumpy eat da apron--I brang back--da half ta Mees Jan.” “An' it took ye all the mornin' to give it to her?” said Tom thoughtfully, looking Carl straight in the eye, a new vista opening before her. That night when the circle gathered about the lamp to hear Pop read, Carl was missing. Tom had not sent for him.