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Updated: May 2, 2025
He trotted over to spend an afternoon with Patsie, and the Commissioner's wife would have kissed him. "No, not vere," said His Majesty the King, with superb insolence, fencing one corner of his mouth with his hand, "Vat's my Mamma's place vere she kisses me," "Oh!" said the Commissioner's wife, briefly. Then to herself: "Well, I suppose I ought to be glad for his sake.
"We hunt and hunt in every corner of the garden, and then we divide our treasures afterwards on two plates, so that is quite fair." "You are lucky children, why does not the Hare come to England?" said Patsie. "I am sure little English children would appreciate him too!"
John Hunter's eyes twinkled an amused recognition, but he did not mention the accident in which Patsie had come to grief. "I am very glad to meet you, Miss Farnshaw; we are both wet weather birds." Seeing Liza Ann reach for a frying pan, he addressed himself to her: "Never mind any supper for me, Mrs. Chamberlain.
Elizabeth was passing a grove of young cottonwood trees and was so absorbed in her thoughts that, becoming only half conscious that Patsie was lagging and that time was passing rapidly, she gave her a slap with the strap in her hand, urging the horse to a faster pace as she rounded the corner of the section without looking up. Patsie broke into a long, easy lope.
Farnshaw had taken the milkpails to the house while they were talking and it was Elizabeth's fate to encounter him on the doorstep as she ran up to the kitchen door. "Where were you last night?" "I'm awfully sorry about the horse, pa. I hurried this morning, but Patsie was so lame and I had to come all the way from the Chamberlain district.
You'll like each other an' he'll want t' stay as bad as You'll want 'im." Silas had poured the whole arrangement out, and as it was about what was necessary it was accepted. The presence of a stranger necessitated more formal housekeeping, and when the new man came back from helping Silas saddle Patsie he found the kitchen in order and the savoury smell of fresh biscuits and ham.
On thinking the question out at length, by roads unknown to those who have left childhood behind, he came to the conclusion that Patsie was petted because she wore a big blue sash and yellow hair. This precious discovery he kept to himself. The yellow hair was absolutely beyond his power, his own tousled wig being potato-brown; but something might be done toward the blue sash.
Patsie stood in the stall nearest the door, humped up with the cold, and with a layer of snow on her hips and spreading black tail. She turned sidewise and pawed furiously, giving shrill little whinnies as Elizabeth seized a half-bushel measure and waded through the snow to the oats bin. "No, corn's better this cold weather," the girl said aloud, and hurried to the other bin.
And I fought if I had ve blue wiban, he'd let me play in ve waste-paper basket under ve table." "What blue riband, childie?" "Ve same vat Patsie had ve big blue wiban w-w-wound my t-ttummy!" "What is it, Toby? There's something on your mind. Tell me all about it, and perhaps I can help."
There was little time left her for argument, for Elizabeth hurriedly tied a thick green veil over her plain straw hat and left the house. The hog pens were on the opposite side of the stable from the house and Elizabeth soon had Patsie, now a mare of five years, saddled and bridled.
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