"
"You are very kind, and I will."
He took her to the stables, and she selected a beautiful black mare, with
a coat like satin.
"There," said Walter, despondingly. "I was afraid you would fix on _her_.
She is impossible, I can't ride her myself."
"Vicious?"
"Not in the least."
"Well, then--"
Here an old groom touched his hat, and said, curtly, "Too hot and
fidgety, miss. I'd as lieve ride of a boiling kettle."
Walter explained: "The poor thing is the victim of nervousness."
"Which I call them as rides her the victims," suggested the
ancient groom.
"Be quiet, George. She would go sweetly in a steeple-chase, if she didn't
break her heart with impatience before the start. But on the road she is
impossible. If you make her walk, she is all over lather in five minutes,
and she'd spoil that sweet habit with flecks of foam. My lady has a way
of tossing her head, and covering you all over with white streaks."
"She wants soothing," suggested Miss Clifford.
"Nay, miss. She wants bleeding o' Sundays, and sweating over the fallows
till she drops o' week-days.
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