My feet trod the greensward more firmly. Then all other thoughts were for the moment put to flight by Preston's calling for the pony and asking Darius what he thought of him, and Darry's answer.
"Very far, massa; very far. Him no good for not'ing."
While I pondered what this judgment might amount to, the pony was brought out. He was larger than Loupe, and had not Loupe's peculiar symmetry of mane and tail: he was a fat dumpy little fellow, sleek and short, dapple grey, with a good long tail and a mild eye. Preston declared he had no shape at all and was a poor concern of a pony; but to my eyes he was beautiful. He took one or two sugarplums from my hand with as much amenity as if we had been old acquaintances. Then a boy was put on him, who rode him up and down with a halter.
"He'll do, Darius," said Preston.
"For little missis? Just big enough, massa. Got no tricks at all, only he no like work. Not much spring in him."
"Daisy must take the whip, then. Come and let us go look at some of the country where you will ride. Are you tired, Daisy?"
"Oh no," I said. "But wait a minute, Preston. Who lives in all those houses?"
"The people. The hands. They are away in the fields at work now."
"Does Darius live there?"
"Of course. They all live here."