His great pride was his team and wagon, and that pride was justified. The
wagon was a heavy flat affair, gayly decorated, and on the sides of the box
were paintings of landscapes. The horses were great, magnificent creatures,
with arching thick necks, long wavy manes and forelocks, soft, intelligent
eyes, and with great hoofs and hairy fetlocks. They carried themselves in
conscious pride, Their harness was heavy with silver and with many white
and coloured rings. In colour they were dapple gray.

"That team," said John McGlynn, "is a perfect match. Took me two years to
get them together. Wuth a mint of money. That Kate, there, is a regular
character. You'd be surprised how cute she is. I often wonder who Kate
_is_. She must be some very famous woman."

John McGlynn was a very wonderful and very accommodating person, Nan
thought. He would help carry things in, and was willing to unpack or to
carry out the mess Keith's mad career left behind, it. Also he cast an eye
on the garden possibilities, and issued friendly, expert advice to which
Nan listened, breathless. They held long intimate consultations as to the
treatment of the soil.

"A few posies does sort of brighten things up; they're wuth while," quoth
John.

Without previous consultation, he appeared one day accompanied by a rotund,
bland, gorgeous Chinaman, perched beside him on his elevated seat.

"This is Wing Woh, a friend of mine," he announced. "You got to have a
Chink, of course. You can't run that sized house without help. Wing knows
all the Chinks in town, and bosses about half of them."