IN WHICH MISTRESS LLOYD, OF MARYLAND, GIVES TRUE HIS FIRST RIBBAND.
One sunny September morning, when the weather was clear and fine and the trees were waving their crisp, gay-tinted leaves over the grass-bordered roadways leading to the fair-grounds, the horses were blanketed and led towards the place of exhibition, for this was the great opening of the Hartford Fair, and many had come from as far as New York and Boston to attend it. There was much prancing and side-stepping among the horses after a fine breakfast to put them in a good humor.
True had been exhibited once at a small fair in Springfield and knew a little of what was expected of him, but of course this was a much greater occasion and a sensation of slight nervousness and anticipation held his heart.
Some of the younger horses were ill-mannered; they bit at their grooms or snorted and showed their teeth rudely, which astonished True, for he had been taught to be polite always. Some of them grew very excited and some knew they might change owners, and receive prizes for this trait or that. It was a day long to be remembered by them all.
What a scene met their eyes when, at last, they were in sight of the Grounds! Early, as it was, there were more men assembled together than True had ever seen and they made a point of all talking at once, which confused the horses no little; they shouted at the tops of their voices, too, as if everybody were stone deaf.
The women, however, stood quietly, and modestly at one side in little sheltered booths where they displayed in a most becoming manner their handiwork: quilts, with beautiful and appropriate names, and wonderful pieces of hand-woven homespun and linen. Farther on True espied piles of carrots, squashes and other delicious things which would have made his mouth water had he not been so bewildered by the noises. Music sounded and set him dancing and showing his remarkable muscles to advantage.
Even Beautiful Bay, experienced as he must have been in such events, seemed to be under the influence of the lively atmosphere and curved his neck with spirit to the admiration and respect of everyone who knew the old horse. True felt a little anxiety for the result when Beautiful Bay was led before the Judges, but this was quite unnecessary; he returned with a blue ribband on his bridle and a very satisfied look in his eye.
Then the Three-year-olds were called.
True’s temples throbbed; there were many beautiful horses there and, being modest, he had not guessed that he was the most beautiful and meritorious of them all.
When they were led out some bared their teeth, kicked at each other, and misbehaved shockingly. The contrast between True’s breeding and theirs was very marked. When the Judges approached some of them even went so far as to whirl for a kick!
True in his turn, however, stepped out briskly and easily, small, lean head high, heavy black mane and tail waving lightly in the morning breeze. But, all suddenly, the stupid groom jerked his halter sharply.
Startled, the young horse flung himself backward.
“Now, you young rascal!” cried the lout, grandly, as if he were Mahommed himself, “None of your capers with me!”
Not being accustomed to rudeness, True backed, indignantly, and dragged the boy along with him.
At this moment there was a rustle, like leaves in autumn, or the brush of wings, and the flying figure of a maid seemed poised beside the little horse, so light and airy was she.
All the odors of aromatic herbs and grasses of Arabia—myrrh, frankincense and balsam, of which his mother had told him—enveloped his imagination and delighted his senses. He thrust his large tremulous nostrils forward, hungry to inhale more deeply of this new creature. Never had he scented her like before.
“Oh, please, Mr. Judge!” she cried, and as soon as she spoke True recognized the dulcet tones of Mistress Lloyd, of Maryland. Thrilling, as she caught his rein, he calmed himself instantly. “Don’t let them jerk him so! Ah, my Beauty,” she continued, putting her cheek against his, “here is a piece of sugar for you!” She extended the rose-leaf palm, from which he had seen his father eat one day and on which was another bit of maple sugar. “See, he is so willing to be good, if you will but let him!”
When he had lipped her hand all over very gently, to get the last crumb, True poked his small muzzle into the hollow of her neck and listened to her voice murmuring in his ear. All the soft breezes and blue sky of the universe were concentrated in the delicious spell of her presence, for this young maiden was one of those rare human beings who possess a mysterious understanding of animals, especially horses, which gives a power and control over them—almost miraculous.
True stepped carefully, lest his small well-shaped hoofs might tread upon the marvellously tiny feet half hidden beneath the flowered petticoat. All the while her voice was saying soft, delightful things in his listening ear.
When she finally gave up his rein and turned away, the young horse followed, drawn as by a magnet and dragged the groom with him, scarce seeming to feel the boy pulling at the halter.
A murmur of polite laughter made Mistress Lloyd look back.
Smiling sweetly, she turned and stroked True’s broad forehead with her magic hand, and, telling him softly, to “go back and be judged,” she reminded him he was at a Fair.
Indeed he needed reminding, for so absorbed had he been in her loveliness that he had forgotten all else!
The groom then gave a gentler tug at the halter and True consented to be led before the Judges, who had not yet told the people he was the finest Three-year-old in New England. “The Hartford Wits” and their friends, the Maryland Lloyds, watched the consultation of Judges, hoping the ribband would be given to “Figure.”
In a few moments one of the committee came and spoke a few words to Mistress Lloyd; she smiled with pleasure, and nodded her pretty head in assent.
In another moment True heard the sound as of leaves in an autumn forest, and there she was, beside him once more, a fillet of blue in her hand.
Daintily she reached the headstall of his halter and firmly she tied it on—all the while talking to him, oh, so sweetly:
“And so ’tis yours! I knew ’twould be, you beauty! You’re far lovelier than your father, even, and you must always be a good colt and make everybody love you as you’ve made me!”
Somehow, True did not mind being called a “colt” by her, it seemed more like a caress than patronage; but had the Coxcomb, standing by, done it he would have been tempted to take a whirl at him.
“Some day,” went on Mistress Lloyd, “my father will buy you for me and I shall take you down to Maryland—I want Tom Dulaney to see you!” True could hear by the tones of her voice as she mentioned his name that this Tom Dulaney must be a personage of consequence. “You are small, and some might say not lean enough to hunt, but you are the dearest animal I ever won the love of!” For ’twas ever the habit of this fair maid to weave her spell over animals, and well aware was she of their response!
Then, oh, miracle of delights! as she finished tying the strand she kissed his straight face with lips that looked and smelled like crimson clover blossoms wet with dew.
This perfumed dream was broken by a disagreeable laugh, and a well-bred but none the less offensive voice said:
“The brute will bite you, Mistress.”
It was the Coxcomb speaking.
“I am afraid of no horse living, Master Knickerbocker,” she gave reply, quietly; then looking straight at him, she finished, “horses are often truer than men.”
She turned quickly and joined her father.