200
ON OUR SELECTION.
Chapter XXIII.
The Agricultural Reporter.
IT had been a dull, miserable day, and a cold westerly was blowing. Dave and Joe were at the barn finishing up for the day.
Dad was inside grunting and groaning with toothache. He had had it a week, and was nearly mad. For a while he 
sat by the fire, prodding the tooth with his pocket-knife; then he covered his jaw with his hand and went out and walked about the yard.
Joe asked him if he had seen Nell's foal anywhere that day. He did n't answer.
"Did y' see the brown foal any place ter-day, Dad? "
"Damn the brown foal!"—and Dad went inside again.
He walked round and round the
