Jack was too proud of Don’s quickness to appear surprised; so, disregarding the hilarious shout of the Danby boys, he took the bridle from the young master with an off-hand air, and led the now gentle animal quietly towards the stable.
But Dorothy was there before him. Out of breath after her brisk run, she was panting and tugging at a dusty side-saddle hanging in the harness-room, when Jack and the mare drew near.
“Oh, Jack!” she cried, “help me to get this down! I mean to have some fun. I’m going to ride that mare back to the field!”
“Not you, Miss Dorry!” exclaimed Jack. “Take your own pony, an’ your own saddle, an’ it’s a go; but this ’ere mare’d be on her beam ends with you in no time.”
“Oh, no, she wouldn’t, Jack! She knows me perfectly. Don’t you, Lady? Oh, do, Jack! That’s a good Jack. Please let me! Don’s there, you know.”
Dorry said this as if Don were a regiment. By this time, the side-saddle, yielding to her vigorous efforts, had clattered down from its peg, with a peculiar buckle-and-leathery noise of its own.
“Won’t you, Jack? Ah, won’t you?”
“No, miss, I won’t!” said Jack, resolutely.
“Why, Jack, I’ve been on her before. Don’t you know? There isn’t a horse on the place that could throw me. Uncle said so. Don’t you remember?”
“So he did!” said Jack, his eyes sparkling proudly.