He had ridden close and paused for a few friendly sentences with the quartette, careful to give Honey the attention she plainly expected.

But it was not Honey who wore the wide hat and owned the pretty little feet.

Bud pulled his thoughts back from a fruitless wish that he might in some way help that little woman whose trouble looked from her eyes, and whose lips smiled so bravely.

He did not think of possession when he thought of her; it was the look in her eyes, and the slighting tones in which Honey spoke of her.
"Say, come alive! What yuh going off in a trance for, when I'm talking to yuh for your own good ?" Jerry smiled whimsically, but his eyes were worried.
Bud pulled himself together and reined closer.
"Don't bet anything on this race, Jerry," he advised "Or if you do, don't bet on Skeeter.

But--well, I'll just trade you a little advice for all you've given me.