at he was about. He
hadn't shod horses for twenty years without learning something about
them. He stood so near the white mare that her kick hadn't room to get
going well. And the blacksmith wasn't hurt. He was merely disgusted.

"I declare," he said to Farmer Green, "this mare is the meanest critter
that comes into my shop. She doesn't know anything except how to kick
and bite. That old horse of yours is worth a dozen like her. I'd give
more for his tail than I would for her."

Ebenezer tried to look unconcerned. The blacksmith had a hearty voice.
Nobody in the shop could help hearing what he said. And Twinkleheels
made up his mind that the blacksmith shouldn't have any reason to speak
of him as he had of the silly white mare.

Twinkleheels watched sharply as the blacksmith captured a hind foot of
the white mare's and held it between his knees. Then he began to nail on
the shoe.

One thing puzzled Twinkleheels. Every time the blacksmith struck a blow
with his hammer he gave a funny grunt. Twinkleheels nudged Ebenezer with
his nose.

"Do you hear that?" he asked. "Is he related to Grunty Pig--a sort of
cousin, perhaps?"

The old horse Ebenezer gasped.

"Bless you, no!" he exclaimed.

"Then why does he grunt?"

"Oh, that's just a way he has," said Ebenezer. "Some blacksmiths think
it's stylish to grunt like that."

By this time the white mare seemed to be in a pleasanter frame of mind.
At least, she let the blacksmith nail a shoe on each of her feet without
making any objection--except to switch her tail now and then. And just
as the blacksmith finished with her a man came and led her away.

"Now," said the blacksmith, "I'm ready to shoe the pony. And if he's as
clever as he looks I shan't have a bit of trouble with him."

When he heard that, Twinkleheels made up his mind that he would behave
his best, no matter what happened.

XVIII

NEW SHOES

The blacksmith patted Twinkleheels and picked up one of his forefeet.
Then the blacksmith took a chisel and began to pare away at the horny
hoof. Twinkleheels looked over the blacksmith's shoulder. And what he
saw gave him a start.

"Great green grass!" he cried to Ebenezer. "Is he going to cut my foot
off?"

"No, indeed!" Ebenezer answered. "The blacksmith always pares my feet a
bit when he fits new shoes. He may have to trim yours a good deal,
because you've never worn shoes and your feet have never been pared."

In spite of his resolve to be on