I don’t know how long I was ill. Mr Bond, the horse doctor, came every day. One day he bled me, and I felt so weak afterwards that I thought I would die. I believe they all thought so too.
The fever made my hearing very sharp. One night Tom Green, Joe’s father, came in to help John give me some medicine. Then the two men sat down on a bench in the empty stall next to mine.
“John,” said Tom in a low voice, “I wish you would say a kind word to Joe. The boy is heartbroken. He can’t eat and he can’t smile. He knows it was his fault, though he did his best. He isn’t a bad boy.”
After a pause, John said slowly, “I know he meant no harm, Tom. But that horse is the pride of my heart, and to think that his life may be thrown away like this is more than I can bear. But I will give the boy a good word tomorrow, if Beauty is better.”
“Thank you, John. I’m glad you see it was only ignorance.”
John’s voice almost made me jump.
“Only ignorance! How can you talk about only ignorance? Don’t you know that it is the worst thing in the world, next to wickedness? People say, ‘Oh, I didn’t know, I didn’t mean any harm,’ and they think it is all right. You were very upset yourself two weeks ago, Tom, when those young ladies left your hothouse door open with a frosty wind blowing in, and it killed your young plants. I’m sure they didn’t mean it. It was only ignorance.”
I heard no more, because the medicine sent me to sleep, and in the morning I felt much better. But I often thought of John’s words later, when I came to know more of the world.