I flew downstairs.  I rushed out of the house and up to my treasure, and kissed his nose and stroked his mane.  I could not get my fingers away from him.  Horses are so like the very best and beautifullest of women when you caress them.  They show their pleasure so at being petted.  They curve their necks, and paw, and look proud.  They take your flattery like sunshine and are lovely in it.  I kissed my beauty, peering at his black-mottled skin, which is like Allingborough Heath in the twilight.  The smell of his new saddle and bridle-leather was sweeter than a garden to me.  The man handed me a large riding-whip mounted with silver.  I longed to jump up and ride till midnight.

Then mama and papa came out and read the note and looked, at my darling little cob, and my sisters saw him and kissed me, for they are not envious girls.  The most distressing thing was that we had not a riding-habit in the family.  I was ready to wear any sort.  I would have ridden as a guy rather than not ride at all.  But mama gave me a promise that in two days a riding-habit should be sent on to Dayton, and I had to let my pet be led back from where he came.  I had no life till I was following him.  I could have believed him to be a fairy prince who had charmed me.  I called him Prince Leboo, because he was black and good.  I forgive anybody who talks about first love after what my experience has been with Prince Leboo.

What papa thought of the present I do not know, but I know very well what mama thought:  and for my part I thought everything, not distinctly including that, for I could not suppose such selfishness in one so generous as Mr. Pollingray.  But I came to Dayton in a state of arrogant pride, that gave assurance if not ease to my manners.  I thanked Mr. Pollingray warmly, but in a way to let him see it was the matter of a horse between us.  ‘You give, I register thanks, and there’s an end.’

’He thinks me a fool! a fool!

‘My habit,’ I said, ’comes after me.  I hope we shall have some rides together.’

‘Many,’ replied Mr. Pollingray, and his bow inflated me with ideas of my condescension.

And because Miss Pollingray (Queen Elizabeth he calls her) looked half sad, I read it—!  I do not write what I read it to be.

Behold the uttermost fool of all female creation led over the house by Mr. Pollingray.  He showed me the family pictures.

‘I am no judge of pictures, Mr. Pollingray.’

‘You will learn to see the merits of these.’

‘I’m afraid not, though I were to study them for years.’

‘You may have that opportunity.’

‘Oh! that is more than I can expect.’

‘You will develop intelligence on such subjects by and by.’

A dull sort of distant blow struck me in this remark; but I paid no heed to it.