“The dear! She remembers me!” the girl said, wiping her eyes. “It’s Lady Washington,” she explained to Caroline. She reached up to fondle the little muzzle, and the mare nipped playfully.
“Look out, miss,” called the stable-boy, who was sitting on a soap-box; “she’s mean.”
“She’s no such thing,” said the girl.
“Oh, ain’t she?” said the boy.
“Well, if she is, you made her so,” retorted Angelica.
The boy grinned. “I ain’t only been in the stable two weeks,” he said. “She caught me on the second day and nigh broke me leg. You see her act in the ring? Mr. Haughton says he won’t ride her no more, and she’s entered in the five-foot-six jumps.”
The girl looked thoughtfully at the boy and then at the horse. An idea had come to her. She was reflecting upon the last words Mr. Haughton had spoken before she left the box: “You can ride her whenever you like.”
“I know,” she said aloud. “I’m going to ride her in that class. I’m Miss Stanton. I used to own her, you know. My saddle is down there with Mr. Stanton’s horses, and I want you to go and get it.”
“Oh, never, Miss Angelica!” exclaimed Caroline. “Dear me, not that!”
“You hush,” said Angelica.