Sharon, even before winter came, had formed a habit of stopping to speak to Wilbur, pulling up the long-striding, gaunt roan horse and the buggy which his weight caused to sag on one side to ask the boy idle questions.

Throughout the winter he continued these attentions, and once, on a day sparkling with new snow, he took the rejected twin into a cutter, enveloped him in the buffalo robe, and gave him a joyous ride out over West Hill along the icy road that wound through the sleeping, still woods.

They were silent for the most of this drive.
"You don't talk much," said Sharon when the roan slowed for the ascent of West Hill and the music of the bells became only a silver murmur of chords.

The boy was silent, even at this, for while he was trying to think of a suitable answer, trying to think what Winona would have him reply, Sharon flicked the roan and the music came loud again.

There was no more talk until Sharon pulled up in the village, the boy being too shy to volunteer any speech while this splendid hospitality endured.
"Have a good time ?" demanded Sharon at parting.
Wilbur tried earnestly to remember that he should reply in Winona's formula, "I have had a delightful time and thank you so much for asking me," but he stared at Sharon, muffled in a great fur coat and cap, holding the taut lines with enormous driving gloves, and could only say "Fine!" after which he stopped, merely looking his thanks.
"Good!" said Sharon, and touching the outer tips of his frosted eyebrows with a huge gloved thumb he clicked to the roan and was off to a sprinkle of bell chimes.
Wilbur resolved not to tell Winona of this ride, because he would have to confess that he had awkwardly forgotten to say the proper words at the end.