They really had no use for the gray mare, for nowadays the
neighbors did all their errands in town for them, and the few
remaining acres of the old farm lay fallow.
Nor, had he desired to sell the mare, would anybody be willing to
pay much for the twenty-two-year-old Queenie. In truth, Ira Ball was
too tender-hearted to think of giving the Queen of Sheba over to a
new owner and so sentence her to painful toil.
"She'd be a sight better off in the horse heaven, wherever that
is," he decided. But he was careful to say nothing like this in his
wife's hearing. "Women are funny that way," he considered. "She'd
rather let the decrepit old critter hang around eatin' her head off,
like I say, than mercifully put her out of her misery."
Stern times call for stern methods. Cap'n Ira Ball had seen the
tragic moment when he was forced to separate a bridegroom from his
bride with a sinking deck all but awash under his feet. What had to
be done had to be done! Prudence could no longer be endangered by
the stable tasks connected with the old mare. He could not relieve
her. They could scarcely afford a hired hand merely to take care of
Queenie.
He remained rather silent that evening, and even forgot to praise
Prue's hot biscuit, of which he ate a good many with his creamed
pollack.
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