The man hesitated a moment, then retreated—but only to obey, as we understood at once by the creaking of the dry hinges, which were seldom required to move.
‘You won’t mind holding her for me, will you?’ she said, turning to me.
I had been sitting mute with surprise both at the way in which she ordered the man, and at his obedience. But now I found my tongue.
‘Don’t you think, Miss Coningham,’ I said—for the man was within hearing, ‘we had better leave them both with the porter, and then we could go in together? I’m not sure that those flags, not to mention the steps, are good footing for that mare.’
‘Oh! you’re afraid of your animal, are you?’ she rejoined. ‘Very well.’
‘Shall I hold your stirrup for you?’
Before I could dismount, she had slipped off, and begun gathering up her skirt. The man came and took the horses. We entered by the open gate together.
‘How can you be so cruel, Clara?’ I said. ‘You will always misinterpret me! I was quite right about the flags. Don’t you see how hard they are, and how slippery therefore for iron shoes?’
‘You might have seen by this time that I know quite as much about horses as you do,’ she returned, a little cross, I thought.
‘You can ride ever so much better,’ I answered; ‘but it does not follow you know more about horses than I do. I once saw a horse have a frightful fall on just such a pavement. Besides, does one think only of the horse when there’s an angel on his back?’