It sounded like, "Twice
two's four, twice four's six, twice six's eight," and he passed on,
thinking, 'A fine thing; but if we don't take care we shall go too far;
we shall unfit them for their stations,' and he frowned. Crossing a
stile, he took a footpath. The air was full of the singing of larks, and
the bees were pulling down the clover-stalks. At the bottom of the field
was a little pond overhung with willows. On a bare strip of pasture,
within thirty yards, in the full sun, an old horse was tethered to a
peg. It stood with its face towards the pond, baring its yellow teeth,
and stretching out its head, all bone and hollows, to the water which
it could not reach. The Rector stopped. He did not know the horse
personally, for it was three fields short of his parish, but he saw that
the poor beast wanted water. He went up, and finding that the knot of
the halter hurt his fingers, stooped down and wrenched at the peg. While
he was thus straining and tugging, crimson in the face, the old horse
stood still, gazing at him out of his bleary eyes. Mr. Barter sprang
upright with a jerk, the peg in his hand, and the old horse started
back.
"So ho, boy!" said the Rector, and angrily he muttered: "A shame to tie
the poor beast up here in the sun. I should like to give his owner a bit
of my mind!"
He led the animal towards the water.
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