“Quite right,” was the quick rejoinder. “By the way, I had utterly forgotten the horse. Do you know what has become of him?”
“He jumped over the hedge and ran away,” said Lulu.
“But was pursued and brought back,” added Arthur; “is in his stall in the stable now, somewhat quieted down by his race of several miles, and the journey back again.”
“Papa,” cried Lulu vehemently, “I wish you would have him killed; because he deserves it, and I’m afraid he’ll kill you some day, if you don’t. Doctor, don’t you think it would be best?”
“Possibly your father may be a better judge of that than either you or I, my little girl,” was the reply. “I am inclined to suspect the groom of being a worse culprit than the horse; that perhaps before being brought from the stable Thunderer had been subjected to cruel and irritating treatment which put him in a passion, and led him to throw his rider without waiting to make sure that it was he who was to blame.”
Lulu’s heightened color and downcast eyes seemed to indicate that she suspected the doctor of intending his remarks to have a personal application.
“Do horses get into passions?” she asked.
“They have feelings and tempers pretty much like human creatures,” returned the doctor, “and are certainly more excusable than they when indulging a fit of rage.”
“Then I ought to have a good deal of charity for Thunderer,” remarked Lulu, with a sigh. “But, papa, I do hope you’ll never mount him again. Won’t you promise not to?”
“I promise not to for six weeks to come,” answered the captain, laughingly, squeezing her hand and looking fondly into her eyes. “Don’t you think she’ll make a careful nurse, doctor?”