A fat red-faced man in check breeches and gaiters, who looked like a publican, was stroking her nose and feeding her with sugar. She was between the shafts of a smart dogcart painted red and black, which was standing outside a public-house. For some weeks nothing was known other whereabouts, then the pigeons reported that they had seen her on the other side of Willingdon. Hidden under the straw was a little pile of lump sugar and several bunches of ribbon of different colours. Without saying anything to the others she went to MollieвЂ™s stall and turned over the straw with her hoof. вЂIt isnвЂ™t true!вЂ™ repeated Mollie, but she could not look Clover in the face, and the next moment she took to her heels and galloped away into the field.ДЄ thought struck Clover. Do you give me your word of honour that that man was not stroking your nose?вЂ™ вЂHe didnвЂ™t! I wasnвЂ™t! It isnвЂ™t true!вЂ™ cried Mollie, beginning to prance about and paw the ground. And вЂ“ I was a long way away, but I am almost certain I saw this вЂ“ he was talking to you and you were allowing him to stroke your nose. One of Mr PilkingtonвЂ™s men was standing on the other side of the hedge. This morning I saw you looking over the hedge that divides Animal Farm from Foxwood. вЂMollie,вЂ™ she said, вЂI have something very serious to say to you. One day as Mollie strolled blithely into the yard, flirting her long tail and chewing at a stalk of hay. But there were also rumours of something more serious. On every kind of pretext she would run away from work and go to the drinking pool, where she would stand foolishly gazing at her own reflection in the water. She was late for work every morning and excused herself by saying that she had overslept, and she complained of mysterious pains, although her appetite was excellent. As winter drew on Mollie became more and more troublesome.

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