The next day Mr. Bazalgette walked into the room, haughtily overlooked the pyramid of dresses, and asked Lucy to come downstairs and see something.  She put her work aside, and went down with him, and lo! two ponies—­a cream-colored and a bay.  “Oh, you loves!” cried the virgin, passionately, and blushed with pleasure.  Her heart was very accessible—­to quadrupeds.

“Now you are to choose which of these you will have.”

“Oh, Mr. Bazalgette!”

“Have you forgotten what you told me?  ’Try and make me happy some other way,’ says you.  Now I remembered hearing you say what a nice pony you had at Font Abbey; so I sent a capable person to collect ponies for you.  These have both a reputation.  Which will you have?”

“Dear, good, kind Uncle Bazalgette; they are ducks!”

“Let us hope not; a duck’s paces won’t suit you, if you are as fond of galloping as other young ladies.  Come, jump up, and see which is the best brute of the two.”

“What, without my habit?”

“Well, get your habit on, then.  Let us see how quick you can be.”

Off ran Lucy, and soon returned fully equipped.  She mounted the ponies in turn, and rode them each a mile or two in short distances.  Finally she dismounted, and stood beaming on the steps of the hall.  The groom held the ponies for final judgment.

“The bay is rather the best goer, dear,” said she, timidly.

“Miss Fountain chooses the bay, Tom.”

“No, uncle, I was going to ask you if I might have the cream-colored one.  He is so pretty.”

“Ha! ha! ha! here’s a little goose.  Why, they are to ride, not to wear.  Come, I see you are in a difficulty.  Take them both to the stable, Tom.”

“No, no, no,” cried Lucy.  “Oh, Mr. Bazalgette, don’t tempt me to be so wicked.”  Then she put both her fingers in her ears and screamed, “Take the bay darling out of my sight, and leave the cream-colored love.”  And as she persisted in this order, with her fingers in her ears, and an inclination to stamp with her little feet, the bay disappeared and color won the day.

Then she dropped suddenly like a cypress toward Mr. Bazalgette, which meant “you can kiss me.”  This time it was her cheek she proffered, all glowing with exercise and innocent excitement.

Captain Kenealy was the first arrival:  a well-appointed soldier; eyes equally bright under calm and excitement, mustache always clean and glossy; power of assent prodigious.  He looked so warlike, and was so inoffensive, that he was in great request for miles and miles round the garrison town of ——.  The girls, at first introduction to him, admired him, and waited palpitating to be torn from their mammas, and carried half by persuasion, half by force, to their conqueror’s tent; but after a bit they always found him out, and talked before, and at, and across this ornament as if it had been a bronze Mars, or a mustache-tipped shadow.  This the men viewing from a little distance envied the gallant captain, and they might just as well have been jealous of a hair-dresser’s dummy.