There were no riding classes this afternoon and all the horses were in their stalls with only one groom on guard. White Star whinnied softly at the girls’ approach. He was a magnificent animal—sturdy, and his satiny coat was smooth and shiny. He nuzzled Phyllis’ shoulder with his soft nose.
“Get away, old softie,” she said smiling. “Want some sugar?”
Eagerly the horse thrust his nose into her hand and secured the white lump.
“Do you carry a supply of sugar with you?” Gale laughed. “Every time you come here you have some and White Star knows it. He would follow you back to the sorority house if he could get out.”
Phyllis rubbed White Star’s forehead.
“He is a great horse,” she said, “the only one I’ll ride here at school.” She brought forth another piece of sugar from her pocket. “That is the last!” she warned.
With a final pat for White Star the girls left the stall. The horse sent a soft whinny after them.
“The Dean is a lot more popular with the girls now than she was before, isn’t she?” Phyllis murmured. “The new organ in the chapel, these riding lessons—everything has won the girls over.”
It was true. The resentment against the Dean had miraculously faded with the realization that everything she planned was really for the benefit of the school and the girls there. All trouble had ceased with the departure of Miss Horton. Now Briarhurst was the most peaceful and harmonious spot in the world. But sometimes even the most blissful peace is rudely disturbed.