My boy, I've got as fine a span of bay horses as you ever saw.
Cost me five thousand apiece.

That's art for you; eh, Ellen ?" "They are beautiful," she admitted.
"Yes, and strung up with pride.

Get ready, Henry, and we'll go." When Witherspoon gathered up the lines and with the whip touched one of the horses, both jumped as though startled by the same impulse.
"There's grace for you," said Witherspoon.

"Look how they plant their fore feet." Henry did not answer.

He was looking back at a palace, his home; and he, too, was touched with a whip--the thrilling whip of pride.