Peggy Stewart at School Part 10

begged the girls.

"Young ladies, I don't 'old with givin' the 'orses nothin' while in 'arness and a-mussin' them up. They'll be a-s...o...b..rin' themselves a sight," expostulated Dawson.

"But Miss Stewart's and Miss Howland's horses are not s...o...b..red up,"

argued Natalie.

"They've not got curb bits. Just them snaffles which is as good as none whatever," was Dawson's scornful criticism.

"Well, why must ours have curbs if theirs don't," argued Juno Gibson, whose habitual frown seemed to have somewhat lessened during the past five minutes. If Juno had a single soft spot in her heart it was touched by animals. She did not have a horse of her own, though she insisted upon always having the same mount, to Dawson's opposition, for he contended that to become expert horsewomen his pupils must change their mounts and become accustomed to different horses. In the long run the argument was a good one, but Miss Juno did not yield readily to arguments. Therefore she invariably rode Lady Belle, a light-footed little filly, with a tender mouth and nervous as a witch. Her big gentle eyes held a constant look of appeal, she was chafed incessantly by the heavy chain curb, and if anyone approached her suddenly she started back, jerking up her head as though in terror of a blow. But with Juno she was tractable as a lamb, and the pretty creature's whole expression changed when the girl was riding her. Juno had a light, firm hand upon the bit and in spite of Dawson's emphatic orders to "'old 'er curb well in 'and perpetual," she rarely used it, and Lady Belle obeyed her lightest touch.

"Our 'orses are 'arnessed as they had orter be, Miss Gibson, and as the Queen 'erself rides them in the hold country. 'Hi'm doing my best to teach you young ladies proper, and I can't 'old with some of these loose Hamerican 'abits. They wouldn't be 'eld with for a minute in the Row."

"Oh, a fig for your old Row, Dawson! _We're_ all American girls and there's more snap-to in us in one of your 'minutes' than in all the English girls I've ever seen in my life, and I've seen a good many--_too_ many for my peace of mind. I lived there two years," broke in Rosalie Breeze. "I'll bet Miss Howland and Miss Stewart can show you some stunts in riding which would make your old queen's eyes pop out.

Why don't you quote Helen Taft to us instead of Queen Mary? We don't care a whoop for the queen of England, but Helen Taft is just a Yankee girl like ourselves and we can see her ride almost any day if we want to. She is big enough for us to see, goodness knows. But come on, girls.

Let's do our stunts," and Rosalie scrambled upon the platform once more, ready to mount Jack-o'-Lantern, the horse she was to ride.

Meanwhile Lady Bell sniffing something eatable, had drawn near Peggy, half doubtful, half trustful. At that instant Peggy turned rather quickly, entirely unaware of the filly's approach. With a frightened snort the pretty creature started back. Peggy grasped the situation instantly. She made a step forward, raised her arm, drew the silky neck within her embrace, whispered a few words into the nervously alert ear, and the hour was won. Lady Belle nestled to her like a sensitive, frightened child.

"'Ave a care, Miss Stewart! 'Ave a care! She's a snappy one," warned Dawson with bristling importance as he turned from settling _Is_-a-bel Boylston upon a big, white, heavy-footed horse, where she managed to keep her place with all the grace of outline and poise of a meal sack.

Now Peggy had been sizing things up pretty thoroughly during the past fifteen minutes, and her conclusions were not flattering to Dawson.

There was a cut upon Lady Belle's sensitive nostril which told its little story to her. Jack-o'-Lantern's hoofs were varnished most beautifully, but when he lifted them one glimpse told Peggy the condition of the frogs. The silver mounting upon "The Senator's,"

Isabel's horse's harness were shining, but his bit was rusty and untidy.

A dozen little trifles testified to Dawson's superficiality, and Peggy had been mistress of a big paddock too long to let this popinjay lord it over one whom he sized up as "nothin' but a school girl." Consequently, her reply to his warning slightly upset his equanimity.

"You need not be alarmed, Dawson, but if Lady Belle turns fractious I'll abide the consequences."

"Yes, Miss, yes, Miss, but _'Hi'm_ responsible, you understand."

"What for? The horse's well-being or mine? I'll relieve you of mine, and give you more time to care for the horses. Lady Belle's muzzle seems to have suffered slightly. Jack-o'-Lantern's hoofs need your attention, and at Severndale a bit like the Senator's would mean a bad quarter of an hour for _some_body. So, you'd have a hard time 'holding down your job'

there. That's pure American slang. Do you understand it?" and shrugging her shoulders slightly, Peggy cried: "Come on, girls! We're wasting loads of time. Attention, Shashai! Right dress! Right step! Front!

Steady!"

As Peggy spoke, Shashai and Silver Star sprang side by side, then stood like statues. At "right dress" they turned their heads toward the group of horses. At "right step," they closed up until they stood in perfect line beside them. At "front," "steady" they stood facing the two girls, waiting the next command.

"Come up to the platform. Come up and be ready to mount, young ladies,"

ordered Dawson.

"We'll mount when you give the word," answered Polly, her hand, like Peggy's, upon her horse's withers.

"You'll never be able to from the ground, Miss."

A ringing laugh from the girls, sudden springs and they were in their saddles. "Four bells!" they cried and swept away around the ring, their gay laughter flung behind them to where their companion's horses were fidgeting and chafing under Dawson's highly conventional restraint, while that disconcerted man whose veneer had so promptly been penetrated by Peggy's keen vision, forgot himself so far as to mutter under his breath:

"These Hamerican girls are the limit, and I'm in for a ---- of a time if I don't mind my hey. And she Miss Stewart of Severndale, and I not hon to that before! 'Ere's a go and no mistake."

CHAPTER IX

COMMON SENSE AND HORSE SENSE

As has no doubt already been suspected, Alfred Dawson, Riding Master at the Columbia Heights School, was such a complete impostor that he actually imposed upon himself. He is by no means the only one on record.

Oddly enough we are all more or less impostors, blind to our own pet foibles, deluded as to our own little weaknesses. Dawson's methods with his charges, both two-footed and four, were the methods of thousands of others, whether they have the directing of young people, or the training of animal's entrusted to them. Like grains of corn--pour them into a hopper and they come out at the other end meal--of some sort--good--bad or indifferent as it happens--that was not _his_ concern; his job was to pour in the grains and he knew of but one way to pour--just as someone else had poured before him. That he might devise new and better methods of pouring never entered his square-shaped head. It was left for a fifteen-year-old girl, and an old darky, whom in his secret heart he regarded as no better than the dirt beneath his feet, to start volcanic eruptions destined to shake the very foundations of his self-complacence. Hitherto he had simply been lord of his realm. He had come to Columbia Heights highly recommended by the father of one of its pupils and had a.s.sumed undisputed control. Mrs. Vincent, like hundreds of other women who own horses, but who know about as much concerning their care and well-being as they know of what is needful for a Rajah's herd of elephants, judged wholly by the outward evidences. The horses came to the house in seemingly faultless condition: their coats shone, their harness seemed immaculate; they behaved in a most exemplary manner. Nor had anything ever happened to the young ladies while they were in Dawson's care. What more could a conscientious school Princ.i.p.al ask of her riding master? It had never occurred to her to appear in the stables when least expected; to examine harness, saddles, stalls, feed mangers, bedding; to study the expressions of her horses' faces as she would have studied her girls. How many women ever think of doing so? It never entered her head to argue that there was more reason for it. Few of her girls would have hesitated to express their minds had any one misused them, or to insist upon comfortable conditions should uncomfortable ones exist for them.

Yet Mrs. Vincent, sweet, strong, kind, and just to everyone, was as blind as a babe to the impositions practiced by the oily-tongued, deferential Dawson. True, he did 'get upon her nerves' now and again, but she secretly reproached herself for what she felt to be her American prejudices, and by way of self-discipline overlooked in Dawson many little aggravating peculiarities which she would have felt it her duty to instantly correct in the other servants.

And no doubt things would have gone on in exactly the same way indefinitely had not a little la.s.sie who loved horses and animals as she loved human beings, and whose understanding of them and their understanding of her was almost uncanny, chosen Columbia Heights School for her Alma Mater.

That was a red letter hour for Dawson. He had a vague feeling that some influence, perhaps his evil genius, was bestirring itself. At all events, he was ill at ease, something of his accustomed self-conceit was lacking and he was, as the result, somewhat irritable, though he dared not manifest open resentment.

Now it need hardly be stated that Peggy had no premeditated intention of antagonizing the man. He meant no more to her than dozens of other grooms, for after all he was merely an upper servant, but her quick eyes had instantly made some discoveries which hurt her as a physical needle p.r.i.c.k would have hurt her. Peggy had employed too many men at Severndale under Shelby's wonderful judgment and experience of both men and animals, not to judge pretty accurately, and _most_ intuitively, the type of man mounted upon big, gray "Duke." Duke's very ears and eyes told Peggy and Polly a little story which would have made Dawson's pale blue eyes open wider than usual could he have translated it.

As Peggy and Polly went cavorting away across the ring, Dawson called rather peremptorily:

"Young ladies, you will be good enough to come back and take your places beside the others. This is a riding lesson, not a circus show, _hif_ you please."

Polly shot a quick glance at Peggy. There was the slightest possible pressure of their knees and Shashai and Silver Star glided back to their places beside the other four horses.

"Now you will please 'old your reins and your bodies as the other young ladies do," commanded Dawson.

"Never could do it in this world, Dawson. I'd have a crick in my back in two minutes. Besides, we're not out here for lessons, Miss Stewart and I, but just as spectators. We'll look on and see the other girls learn the proper caper," laughed Polly.

"Then I can't for the life of me hunderstand why you came hout at all.

Hit's just a-stirrin' hup and a-fidgeting the other 'orses. They're not used to the goin's hon of 'alf broke hanimals."

"Half broken! It seems to me, Dawson, that most horses are _wholly_ broken but very few wholly _trained_. If we disturb the others, however, we'll go off for a spin by ourselves. Come, Polly. Full speed, Tzaritza!

Four bells, Shashai!" and away sped the trio, Tzaritza, like the obedient creature she was, bounding from the platform where Peggy had bidden her "charge," lest she startle the horses.

"I'll hopen the gate for you, Miss," Dawson hastened to call, a trifle doubtful as to whether he had not been just a little too dictatorial.

"No need. This gate is nothing," called Peggy and as one, they skimmed over the four-foot iron gate as though it were four inches, hands waving, eyes alight, lips parted in gay laughter. Tzaritza's joyful bark mingling with their voices as she rushed away.

The girls' cries of admiration or amazement drowned Dawson's:

"Well, 'Hi'll be blowed! Hi couldn't a done hit like that to save me 'ead," which was quite true, for very few could ride as these young girls rode.

Meanwhile back in the circle two of Dawson's pupils were expressing themselves without reserve.

"I mean to learn to ride like _that_," announced Rosalie Breeze. "The idea of bouncing up and down in a stupid old side-saddle when we could just as well sit as Polly and Peggy do. Why, I never saw anything as graceful as those two girls in my life. Can't _you_ show me how, Dawson?

If you can't you can just make up your mind I am going to find someone who _can_. Jack-o'-Lantern's sure enough disgusted with _this_ show-down, and I believe that's the reason he has no more spirit than a bossy-cow."

"I'm going to speak to Mrs. Vincent," announced Juno. "This may be all very conventional and correct, but all I can do is rise and fall in a trot; I'm petrified if Lady Belle breaks into a canter, and if she were to leap over that fence, I'd break my neck. Yet did you ever _see_ anything so graceful as those two girls and that magnificent dog when they went over? I tell you, girls, we've got something worth while in this school now, believe me. And just you wait!" and with this cryptic ending Juno jockeyed ahead of her companions.

"I wish mother could have seen and heard it all," whispered Natalie.

"Then why don't you tell her, and ask her to come out and see those girls ride," demanded Rosalie.