“I am much too weak,” said the invalid, after a pause, “even to go downstairs, much less to venture outside to be drawn about by your pony. But I always was interested in horses; we had a great many at my old home; and if the pony could be brought where I could see him from this window, it would—well—gratify me. Can we manage it?”
“Oh yes, yes; I will go this minute.”
“Don’t rush wildly across the room and slam the door after you, I beg of you.”
“Oh, no, no. I won’t leave you at all. I mean, I will just go downstairs and give directions, and come back again myself.”
“Do, my dear: I am really interested in horses.” Robina came back after a minute or two, and by and by, there was a little commotion on the badly kept lawn outside the house, for Bo-peep was led forward by Peter the groom. He wore his side-saddle, and perched on his back were both little girls, who looked perfectly radiant, and who waved their hands frantically to their mother. Mr Starling stood by, so that the poor nervous woman was not afraid of any accident happening; and lo! and behold! also belonging to the group was Miss Jennings, and she held a bunch of carrots in her hand. This tempting bonne bouche was far too much for the greedy Bo-peep, who marched boldly up to the lady, rubbing his nose against her, and requesting, as clearly as pony could speak, more and more of his favourite dainties.
“What a pretty creature!” exclaimed Mrs Starling. “Really, he reminds me of my old favourite horse, Prince. How happy and strong I was—as strong as you are now, Robina—when I rode Prince.”
“Shall we open the window, mummy? You will see him better then.”
Robina did so, and Mrs Starling came quite close, and bent a little out of the window, and called Bo-peep once or twice in her faint voice.
“Oh, don’t catch cold, dear!” screamed Miss Jennings from below.
“Don’t interfere, dear?” responded Mrs Starling from above.