“My! what airs!” he exclaimed one day as he was passing me in his governess’s cart. “I presume you’re much too fine to take hay-tea with the rest of us.”
“Don’t class yourself with the others,” I answered. “You remind me of nothing so much as a flea drawing a wash-basket.”
After that brush, he let me alone. And I tried to be contented at Hawley’s. I must say that Missy was kinder than ever to me. On apple days I got several, and on Saturdays a double quantity of stale bread and molasses. So why kick?
But very soon my dainties began to dwindle, and often Missy gave me none at all, so that I lost track of the days. And I noticed, when we went out for our regular gallop, that Missy never hummed to herself as we went along, or stopped to let me crop a little green, or nodded pleasantly to the mounted police we passed. She rode slowly, with her head down, or set me going at a run.
Then, when I had been at the new stable not more than two weeks, a strange groom came down the stalls to me for a second time. Again my hood and dress-blanket were put on, and I was led down and out. The groom was a hang-dog looking fellow. Still, I went with a prancing step. For I knew what it meant. I was going back to Martin and my box-stall!
But I wasn’t. We turned north again, going up a cobbled street that rang with clanging cars. Overhead, the Elevated roared and banged till my ears ached. And everywhere, on sidewalks and in the street, herds of noisy children shrieked and raced. My heart began to fail me. Under my blanket, I broke out in a cold sweat.
Too soon I knew the worst. Down a crowded street we turned, going eastward until I could see, ahead, a blur of green that was the Park. Then I was led into a low, ill-smelling, steaming building, around the door of which slouched a half-dozen rough-looking men, all smoking—smoking, mind you, in a stable! They looked me over as the groom brought me to a stand. And their eyes actually rolled at sight of me. It was plain they were not used to seeing my kind there.
They were not. Down a runway I went, and into a cellar, where there were fifty or so horses, all looking around and moving restlessly, as if they wanted feed or water. And here I was led into a narrow stall with little bedding—and that bad—and a sour feed-box. Oh, what an awful night I spent! My dress-blanket had been taken off, and my sheet not put on. So the mosquitoes tormented me every minute. But I was not the worst off. Near me were horses that had plucked manes and banged tails, and no sheets. They couldn’t defend themselves, and rubbed from side to side in their stalls in a very panic of pain. That terrible banging, hour after hour, and the foul state of my stall kept me from lying down. The groom had given me no water when he brought me in. And until morning I suffered terribly.
I plucked up courage when I was groomed and watered, though I must say I could not eat all of my oats. Somehow or other, my appetite was gone. But Missy came, and we went out together. Not as I would have liked, for my coat was not so shining as usual, and some of my mane hung over the wrong side. And, worse than all, some straws were sticking in my tail!
Missy noticed nothing, not even the howls of the children in the street. In the Park she did not rein me to drink at the stone troughs along the bridle-path, or to crop. But there was one thing that, more than anything else, took the spirit out of me. Going south beside the East Drive, I saw ahead of us—Thunderbolt coming! Instantly, I neighed. Missy looked up, and then, as quick as she could, whirled me and started back, circling the reservoir the other way. So I did not have a chance to see my friend, or Mr. England. I went into the stable with my head hanging.