I was left there with no water and no food while he stumbled off across the cobbles and up into the farmhouse beyond.
There was a sound of slamming doors and raised voices before I heard footsteps running back across the yardand excited voices coming closer.
Two heads appeared at my door. One was that that of a young boy who looked at me for a long time, considering me carefully before his face broke into a beaming smile.
"Mother," he said deliberately. "That will be a wonderful and brave horse. Look how he holds his head." And then, "Look at him, Mother, he's wet through to the skin. I'll have to rub him down."
"But your father said to leave him, Albert," said the boy's mother.
"Said it'll do him good to be left alone. He told you not to touch him."
"Mother," said Albert, slipping back the bolts on the stable door.
"When father's drunk he doesn't know what he's saying or what he's doing. He's always drunk on market days. You've told me often enough not to pay him any account when he's like that."
