"And now," said Uncle Jacky, as soon as he had served the turtle soup around to everybody, "I want you to tell me why you couldn't ride the gray mare, and why you came in a pony-carriage with a slap-up pair of bloods?"
"Why, you know, I am a good-for-nothing city-bred girl, Uncle John, and Miss Cavendish knew it and doubted my ability to ride eighteen or twenty miles on horseback, and so insisted on my having the pony-carriage," explained Laura, soothingly.
"Well, I'm glad it was no worse. I was thinking may be as you despised the old family mare," said John, somewhat mollified.
"Oh, no, uncle! Quite the contrary. I did not feel equal to her," laughed Laura.
"Well, when must we send that fine equipage back—to-night or tomorrow?"
"Neither, Uncle John. It is not wanted at Blue Cliffs just at present. They have the barouche, the brougham and the gig. They can easily spare the pony-chaise. And Emma insisted on my keeping it here until I should be ready to return. And I promised her that I would do it."
"Now I don't like that. That is a patternizing of us a great deal too much. We've got a carriage of our own, I reckon," said John, sitting back in his chair and lifting his red head pompously.
"Now-now-now, John Lytton, don't you be a foo-foo-fool! Carriage! Why, our carriage is all to pieces! A'n't been fit to use for this six months! And sin-sin-since the Caverndishers have been so obleeging as to lend the loan of the pony-shay to Laura, I say let her keep it till she goes back. And while it's a staying here idle I can use it to go and see some of my neighbors," said old Mrs. Lytton, in that peremptory way of hers that did not brook contradiction from any one—even from the master of the house.