“Stop!” interrupted Mrs. Everett. “Your heart-tragedies are too numerous. Besides, if you had married her you wouldn’t be here trying to tell us why you didn’t.” And they all laughed, and cheerfully condemned the judging of the tandem class.
The negro groom who had come up with the Stanton horses met Angelica as she was going down-stairs into the basement where the stalls were. Jim had not appeared, so Angelica and Caroline had started off alone.
“Hilda’s went lame behind, Miss Angie,” the man said. “She must have cast huhself. They ain’t no use to show huh.”
Ordinarily this calamity would have disturbed Angelica, but the discovery of Lady Washington was a joy which could not be dimmed.
“Have you told my brother?” she asked.
“Yes, Miss Angie,” said the man. “He was gwine to tell you.”
“I want to see her,” said Angelica, and they went on toward the stall. But what Angelica most wanted was to get among the horses and look for a certain black mare.
Hilda was very lame, and there was fever in the hock. Angelica patted her neck, and turned away with a side glance at Caroline, who, she feared, would rebel at being led through the horses’ quarters. She walked down the row of stalls till she came to the corner, then up through another passage till she stopped at a big box-stall over the side of which stretched a black head set on a long, thoroughbred-looking neck.
The small, fine ears, the width between the eyes, the square little muzzle, were familiar; and there was a white star on the forehead. But Angelica did not enumerate these things. Horses to her had personalities and faces, just as people had them. She recognized Lady Washington as she had recognized Mr. Livingstone. She made a little exclamation, and, standing on tiptoe, put her arms about the mare’s neck, and kissed it again and again.