beer, and the
dishes were always heaped up with good things, so that nobody was ever
afraid of robbing his neighbour.

Catharine was never weary of Chapel Farm. She was busy from morning to
night, and the living creatures on it were her especial delight.
Naturally, as is the case with all country girls, the circumference of
her knowledge embraced a region which a town matron would have veiled
from her daughters with the heaviest curtains.

"How's the foal going on?" said Mrs. Bellamy to her husband one evening
when he came in to supper.

"Oh, the foal's all right; he'll be just like his father--just the same
broad hind-quarters. Lord! we shall hardly get him into the shafts. You
remember, Miss Catharine, as I showed you what extrornary quarters King
Tom had when he came here? It is a curious thing, there ain't one of his
foals that hasn't got that mark of him. I allus likes a horse, I do,
that leaves his mark strong. If you pay pretty heavy you ought to have
something for your money. The mother, though, is in a bad way: my belief
is she'll have milk-fever."

"That mare never seemed healthy to me," said Catharine.

"No; she was brought up anyhow. When she was about a fortnight old her
mother died. They didn't know how to manage her, and half starved her."

"I don't believe in starvin' creatures when they are young," said Mrs.
Bellamy, who was herself a very small eater.

"Nor I, either, and yet that mare, although, as you say, Miss Catharine,
she was never healthy, has the most wonderful pluck, as you know. I
remember once I had two ton o' muck in the waggon, and we were stuck.
Jack and Blossom couldn't stir it, and, after a bit, chucked up. I put
in Maggie--you should have seen her! She moved it, a'most all herself,
aye, as far as from here to the gate, and then of course the others took
it up. That's blood! What a thing blood is!--you may load it, but you
can't break it. Never a touch of the whip would she stand, and yet it's
quite true she isn't right, and never was. Maybe the foal will be like
her; the shape goes after the father mostly, but the sperrit and temper
after the mother."

The next morning Maggie was worse. Catharine was in the stable as soon
as anybody was stirring, and the poor creature was trembling violently.
She was watched with the most tender care, and when she became too weak
to stand to eat or drink she was slung with soft bands and pads. Her
groans were dreadful. Afte