"No, I wouldn't either," said Ellen Chauncey; "it isn't a pretty name. Call him Seraphine! like Miss Angell's pony that's pretty."
"No, no 'Seraphine!' nonsense!" said Miss Sophia; "call him Benedict Arnold, Ellen; and then it will be a relief to your mind to whip him."
"Whip him!" said Ellen; "I don't want to whip him, I am sure; and I should be afraid too, besides."
"Hasn't John taught you that lesson, yet?" said the young lady; "he is perfect in it himself. Do you remember, Alice, the chastising he gave that fine black horse of ours we called the 'Black Prince' a beautiful creature he was more that a year ago? My conscience! he frightened me to death."
"I remember," said Alice; "I remember I could not look on."
"What did he do that for?" said Ellen.
"What's the matter, Ellen Montgomery?" said Miss Sophia, laughing; "where did you get that long face? Are you thinking of John or the horse?"
Ellen's eyes turned to Alice.
"My dear Ellen," said Alice, smiling, though she spoke seriously "it was necessary; it sometimes is necessary to do such things. You do not suppose John would do it cruelly or unnecessarily?"
Ellen's face shortened considerably.