can't fill 'im up. But I'm goin' to keep at it if it makes me bankrup'. A guy that is mean to a poor 'orse should ought to be hung."
"He certainly should," said Jethro grimly.
"Looks like we're a-goin' to have a spell of tol'able weather," drawled Mr. Gage.
"Yes," said Jethro shortly. There was little warmth in his tone. He hated useless prolonged conversation.
Then Mr. Gage leaned toward him. "Too bad about yer boy," he said dolefully. At that Jethro recoiled as though he had been cut with a whip. He drew his hand across his eyes. His face seemed more gaunt than ever. Was it possible that a Trent was receiving pity from his neighbors? Had that line of strong, tireless farmers dwindled down to being objects of pity? He didn't want sympathy. He felt like running away. Oh, to get away, far off in the fields, where there were no fool people, no simpering neighbors, just the wheat and the sky and a limitless immensity. He felt as though his head were bursting, as though he were going mad.
