“No, Edith, I won’t walk. Do you girls wanna walk?”
“Why no, Father, not without you, dear.”
And the blond hotel porter leading, they passed through the little knot of sturdy peasants at the station gate to where the carriage waited under a group of limes.
“Did you ever see anything as big as that horse, Edith!” cried Emily. She was always the first to exclaim about things.
“It is a very big horse,” sang Edith, more sober. “It’s a farm horse, from the look of it and it’s been working. See how hot it is.” Edith had so much observation. The big, brown horse, his sides streaked with dark sweat, tossed his head and the bells on his collar set up a loud jangling.
“Hu-yup!” called the young peasant driver warningly, from his seat on the high box.
Father, who was just about to get in, drew back, a little scared.
“You don’t think that horse will run away with us, do you, Edith?” he quavered.
“Why no, Father dear,” coaxed Edith. “That horse is just as tame as you or me.” So in they got, the three of them. And as the horse bounded forward his ears seemed to twitch in surprise at his friend the driver. Call that a load? Father and the girls weighed nothing. They might have been three bones, three broomsticks, three umbrellas bouncing up and down on the hard seats of the carriage. It was a mercy the hotel was so close. Father could never have stood that for more than a minute, especially at the end of a journey. Even as it was his face was quite green when Emily helped him out, straightened him, and gave him a little pull.