“Can’t you back, Neale?” asked Ruth Kenway, doubtfully. “We really don’t want to stay here all day.”
“Or wait upon the pleasure of a ridiculous beast like that,” snapped Agnes, more than a little exasperated herself.
The woman looked around again. She had a pleasant face, and Tess smiled at her. Tess knew that the lady must feel a good deal worse than they did about it.
“You don’t know how ridiculous he is,” said the woman, hopelessly. “He may start any minute; then again he may stay here until he gets hungry. And he’s only just eaten his breakfast.”
“He looks as if he’d live as long without eating as a camel can go without drinking,” chuckled Neale O’Neil.
“It’s no laughing matter,” protested Agnes. “We want to get somewhere.”
“You can’t want to get somewhere worse than I do, my dear,” said the woman, with a sigh. “And only think! I have sat behind this pony hours and hours during the past ten years.”
“Can’t—can’t he be cured?” asked Tess, doubtfully.
“He’s a real pretty pony, I think,” said Dot.
“‘Handsome is as handsome does,’ Mrs. Mac would say,” Ruth declared. “Is there no way of turning, Neale?” she repeated.