To be sure there was, and Peter ran off to get both from the stable. In the meanwhile Rose inveigled the horse toward her with a lump of sugar brought from the tea. The saddle was unlike any she had ever seen, but Ruth and she got it on, as well as the bridle.
Both girls could ride like the true Westerners they were, and now, tucking their voluminous skirts neatly about them, they showed off before that admiring herd of children in their quaint clothes, making them appear like miniature men and women, children who had never made a noise before in all their well-managed lives.
But they made plenty now. When Rose bent down from the saddle at full gallop and picked up a handkerchief from the grass, their shouts of applause rent the air. When Ruth stood up in the saddle for a few perilous yards even Deborah gasped with wonder, and as for Peter....
Peter evidently thought Ruth the very nicest girl he had ever seen. He was a handsome, gallant-looking lad, with dark curls that did not make him look girlish, and a bright, fun-loving glance. He climbed into the saddle next, and stuck there too, but when he tried to do Rose’s trick, off he tumbled, among the yells of the other boys and to the terror of all the little girls. He laughed, and tried again, and fell again, and Rose went to show him how. As for the little horse, it seemed too astonished at these extraordinary proceedings to protest by so much as a shrug; it just did, as nearly as it knew how, what it was urged to do.
After they tired of the riding, Ruth proposed squat tag. It too was new to the Cranford boys and girls, but they took to it rejoicingly. How they raced, and shouted, and laughed. And what havoc the game played with flowing skirts and white ruffles and lace tuckers, and how flushed the young faces looked under the little poke bonnets, though many of these were flung on the grass in the abandon of the sport.
It was a royal afternoon.
Before the hilarity had begun to die down a sedan chair born by two respectable servants in wigs and long full-skirted coats came slowly down the street. Behind it came two more, and after these a group of ladies moving in the gentlest possible manner, and chattering together over the agreeable party that had but that instant broken up.
Upon the shocked ears of this genteel group broke a wild screeching, mixed with even wilder laughter. As they turned their heads in the direction of the sound, they saw—well, by the expression upon their faces as they stood rooted to the dust of the pavement, it was evident that they couldn’t believe their own eyes.
For there was Peter on the doctor’s horse, with Ruth mounted behind him, reining back his panting steed before a circle of hopping and yelling children who were flourishing sticks in the most threatening manner. Ruth was screaming wildly, and Deborah—Deborah the superior—was waving a carving knife in Peter’s face.
“Good gracious,” stammered one of the ladies. Whereupon the sedan chairs came to a sudden halt, three tops lifted simultaneously, and three astounded faces appeared above them.