“I’m going away to a house party,” said the Sprightly Sister who Likes to Dance.  “I must pack.”

“You can’t get lost,” said the Domestic Sister.

“Even if you should,” put in the Efficient Sister, “Dr. Bell would bring you home.”

During this conversation my companion did not look up from his work, neither did he speak; yet upon his back there was an expression of derisive glee which made me hope, vindictively, that he would smudge his drawing.  However inscrutable his face, I have never known a man with a back so expressive.

“Here comes Dr. Bell,” remarked the Sociological and Artistic Sister, as a negro groom appeared leading the sorrel steed.

“Well,” I said, trying to speak debonairely as I started toward the drive, “I’ll be going.”

I wished to leave them where they were and go around to the other side of the house to mount.  I had noticed a stone block there and meant to use it if no one but the groom were present; also I intended to tip the groom and ask him a few casual questions about the ways of Dr. Bell.

I might have managed this but for a sudden manifestation of interest on the part of my companion.

“Come on,” he said to the young ladies, “let’s go and see him off.”  It seemed to me that he emphasized the word “off” unpleasantly.  However I tried to seem calm as we moved toward the drive.

Dr. Bell had a bright brown eye; there was something alert in the gaze with which he watched us moving toward him.  However, to my great relief he stood quite still while two of the sisters who preceded me by a few steps, went up and patted him.  Evidently he liked to be patted.  I decided that I would pat him also.

I had approached him from the left and in order to mount I now found it necessary to circle around, in front of him.  I was determined that if the horse would but remain stationary I should step up to him, speak to him, give him a quick pat on the neck, gather the reins in my hand, place my foot swiftly in the stirrup, take a good hop, and be on his back before any one had time to notice.

Dr. Bell, however, caused me to alter these plans; for though he had stood docile as a dog while the sisters patted him, his manner underwent a change on sight of me.  I do not think this change was caused by any personal dislike for me.  I believe he would have done the same had any stranger appeared before him in riding boots.  The trouble was, probably, that he had expected to be ridden by one of the young ladies, and was shocked by the abrupt discovery that a total stranger was to ride him.  This is merely my surmise.  I do not claim deep understanding of the mental workings of any horse, for there is no logic about them or their performances.  They are like crafty lunatics, reasoning, if they reason at all, in a manner too treacherous and devious for human comprehension.  Their very usefulness, the service they render man, is founded on their own folly; were it not for that, man could not even catch them, let alone force them to submit, like weak-minded giants, to his will.