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Allow me to extend to you my sympathy, suh." Rick said nothing, but he looked at Rod curiously. Rick is a sunny-tempered child who never bears malice, and I don't think he quite understood. He gets his temper from his mother, as a horse should. "I've been there too, Rod," said Tedda. "Open confession's good for the soul, an' all Monroe County knows I've had my experriences."
"Top-buggy means the baby's in behind, an' I kin stop while she gathers the pretty flowers yes, an' pick a maouthful, too. The women-folk all say I hev to be humoured, an' I don't kerry things to the sweatin'-point." "'Course I've no prejudice against a top-buggy s' long's I can see it," Tedda went on quickly.
Allow me to extend to you my sympathy, suh." Rick said nothing, but he looked at Rod curiously. Rick is a sunny-tempered child who never bears malice, and I don't think he quite understood. He gets his temper from his mother, as a horse should. "I've been there too, Rod," said Tedda. "Open confession's good for the soul, an' all Monroe County knows I've had my experriences."
"An' knowed how to manage 'em," said Tedda. That makes it worse." Waal, he didn't kill 'em, anyway," said Marcus. "He'd ha' been half killed ef he had tried." "'Makes no differ," Rod answered. "He meant to; an' ef he hadn't s'pose we want the Back Pasture turned into a biffin'-ground on our only day er rest?
"I am not sayin' anythin' again' work," said the yellow horse; "work is the finest thing in the world." "'Seems too fine fer some of us," Tedda snorted. "I only ask that each horse should work for himself, an' enjoy the profit of his labours. Let him work intelligently, an' not as a machine." "There ain't no horse that works like a machine," Marcus began.
This last remark was addressed to Tedda; and any one could see with half an eye that poor, old anxious, fidgety Tedda, stamping at the flies, must have left a wild and tumultuous youth behind her. "'Pends on the man," she answered, shifting from one foot to the other, and addressing herself to the home horses. "They abused me dreffle when I was young.
This last remark was addressed to Tedda; and any one could see with half an eye that poor, old anxious, fidgety Tedda, stamping at the flies, must have left a wild and tumultuous youth behind her. "'Pends on the man," she answered, shifting from one foot to the other, and addressing herself to the home horses. "They abused me dreffle when I was young.
"Kin you hold back when the brichin' breaks? Kin you stop fer orders when your nigh hind leg's over your trace an' ye feel good of a frosty mornin'?" said Nip, who had only learned that trick last winter, and thought it was the crown of horsely knowledge. "What's the use o' talk in'?" said Tedda Gabler, scornfully. "What kin ye do?"
'S'pose we want our men walkin' round with bits er lead pipe an' a twitch, an' their hands full o' stones to throw at us, same 's if we wuz hogs er hooky keows? More'n that, leavin' out Tedda here an' I guess it's more her maouth than her manners stands in her light -there ain't a horse on this farm that ain't a woman's horse, an' proud of it.
"It's ha'f-seein' the pesky thing bobbin' an' balancn' behind the winkers gits on my nerves. Then the boss looked at the bit they'd sold with me, an' s' he: 'Jiminy Christmas! This 'u'd make a clothes-horse Stan' 'n end! Then he gave me a plain bar bit, an' fitted it's if there was some feelin' to my maouth." "Hain't ye got any, Miss Tedda?" said Tuck, who has a mouth like velvet, and knows it.
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