“I should like to see him down our ride; I could better judge of his paces.”
“Clap the saddle on him. I will ride him where you like; or I will let you drive me with him; but I do not trust any one else with him whilst he is in my care.”
The saddle and bridle were put on, and Crop came out of the stable free, and ready to trot back again to Ipswich if his rider was so disposed. He was as fresh and joyous as a lark, and sprang up into the air with almost as light a heart. Margaret mounted awkwardly; put her foot into the stirrup the wrong way; and perceiving that this was noticed, she crossed the stirrups over the saddle in front of her, saying,
“My master always makes me ride without stirrups, and I like it best.”
In truth she sat the horse better without them; and had she had no saddle, it would have suited her even better still; but this seemed to have the desired effect.
The dealer, however, entertained some suspicions from the awkward manner of the groom, and having already suffered for purchasing a stolen horse, he was more on his guard than he otherwise might have been.
They went out of the stable-yard together, and reached the ride belonging to the dealer, and Margaret turned her horse in as she was directed. The stable lads peeped out to see what kind of nag their master was buying, and were not satisfied with a glance, but looked with much admiration at him.
“Just trot him down the ride, young man.”
Margaret dashed down the yard and back again.
“Soho! my fine fellow! Peter,” he said to his head man, “just come and look at this nag.”