“Oh, I never did see anything so cunning,” cried Flaxie, forgetting she had seen several just such ponies when she went to the seaside with Mrs. Prim.
“Whoa! Jump in, both of you,” said Preston, turning the phaeton half round. His face was all aglow with delight.
“Yes, jump in,” said Dr. Papa and mamma.
“It’s Preston’s pony,” cried Julia, who had kept the secret for a whole day and night, till it “seemed as if she should fly.”
The way that gentle little beast walked out of the yard, the way he trotted after he turned into the road! I really cannot give a proper account of it myself; it needs a little girl about Flaxie’s age to describe a pony.
“Oh, he’s a darling, a beauty, the sweetest little thing, not half as big as Whiz! Why, Preston, aren’t you just as happy? Is it your carriage? Where’s the whip? Oh, the silver reins! Didn’t they cost a thou-sand dollars? What do you call the pony? May I drive?”
THE WEDDING PICNIC. Page 160.
“Yes, by and by, when my eyes grow so bad that I can’t see,” replied Preston, a little sadly in spite of his joy; “but father says I may drive now.”