“Have you forgotten what you told me? 'Try and make me happy some other way,' says you. Now I remembered hearing you say what a nice pony you had at Font Abbey; so I sent a capable person to collect ponies for you. These have both a reputation. Which will you have?”
“Dear, good, kind Uncle Bazalgette; they are ducks!”
“Let us hope not; a duck's paces won't suit you, if you are as fond of galloping as other young ladies. Come, jump up, and see which is the best brute of the two.”
“What, without my habit?”
“Well, get your habit on, then. Let us see how quick you can be.”
Off ran Lucy, and soon returned fully equipped. She mounted the ponies in turn, and rode them each a mile or two in short distances. Finally she dismounted, and stood beaming on the steps of the hall. The groom held the ponies for final judgment.
“The bay is rather the best goer, dear,” said she, timidly.
“Miss Fountain chooses the bay, Tom.”
“No, uncle, I was going to ask you if I might have the cream-colored one. He is so pretty.”
“Ha! ha! ha! here's a little goose. Why, they are to ride, not to wear. Come, I see you are in a difficulty. Take them both to the stable, Tom.”