“A farrier, hey? There’s something you could do far better than that. Where did you learn to ride?”
“I never learned. I always rode.”
“Where?”
“At Santa Felisa, California.”
“So? Then all I have to say is that you had better set up a school and teach some of these young folks round here, who almost murder their horses with their blundering clumsiness. For I never saw anybody sit a horse as well as you do; and that’s the truth.”
When the shoe was set, Steenie thanked the helpful smith, promised to visit him again, and went on her way homeward. But she was very thoughtful and preoccupied; and Tito, fully sympathizing with her mood, dropped into a gentle canter, and broke his pleasant pace not once till his mistress suddenly bent forward and threw her arms around his neck.
“Tito, my Tito! I’ll do it! I will, I will!”
Tito softly nodded up and down. Whatever she meant to do,—and it was something which made her eyes shine and her face dimple with hopeful smiles,—be sure that her wise playfellow fully intended to help her.
CHAPTER XII.
