irl.

Mrs. Woodburn went round and looked at the old mare.

"What d'you think of her?" asked Boy, unable to disguise her keenness.

"You've bought two," said the mother slowly.

"D'you think so?" cried the girl.

"Sure," muttered the old man. "One thing, if they claim her, they can't
claim her foal, too." He grunted in his wife's ear: "Chap said she's in
foal to Berserker. Likely tale, ain't it? Howsoebber, if 'tain't true,
don't make no matter; if 'tis, all the better. Anyways, she might throw
a winner, plea' Gob in his goodness."

Mrs. Woodburn held up a warning finger at him.

"Now, dad!" she said; then turned to her daughter.

"Turn her out in the Paddock Close for the present," she said. "And send
one of the lads for Mr. Silver's pony."

The girl led the old mare away into the yard. Jim Silver followed
slowly.

CHAPTER VI

Putnam's

In the days when Putnam's had been a farm, the yard had always been deep
in dung and litter. Now it was cobbled and clean as a kitchen floor. All
round it on three sides were old barns and cattle-sheds, transformed
into rough but roomy loose-boxes. And the most casual observer could not
have mistaken the nature of the place. For a clock stood above the main
building; a chestnut crib-biter, looking out into the yard, had the top
of his half door between his teeth and was wind-sucking with arched
neck; while a flock of fan-tails strutted to and fro, flirting and
foraging.

A tortoise-shell cat crossed the yard leisurely. The cat was known as
Maudie. But it was a matter of dispute amongst those interested in the
question whether she derived her name from Maud Allan, the dancer, or
from Mordecai, the Jew. The dispute hung round the question whether Old
Mat had christened her or Ma. If she owed her name to Old Mat, then it
was clear that it came from the dancer; if to Ma, then from the Old
Testament.

Billy Bluff, entering the yard in an expectant bustle, made for Maudie
with a joyful flourish. Maudie arched her back, spat, and passed on
gingerly. Whenever the pair met, and that was frequently, they went
through the same pantomime, to the satisfaction of one of them at
least.

The bob-tail next made a dash at the fan-tails. These rose with a mighty
splashing of wings, fluttered a yard above his head, and settled again
unconcernedly.

Albert, who, true to his promise, had somehow got home before the rest
of the party, was standing outside the door of the saddle-r