Margaret Maliphant

								

invigorating to the spirits, and it had the same effect on father's new
mare as it had on us; the road, besides, was as hard as iron and very
slippery.
Joyce was nervous in a dog-cart, and she had her doubts of the new
purchase. For the matter of that, so had I. The mare pulled very hard.
However, we got into town well enough, and in the excitement of her
purchases Joyce forgot her uneasiness. It was a long time before she
was quite suited to her mind in the matter of soap, and ham, and
kitchen utensils; and just as we were leaving I remembered that mother
had told me to bring her some tapes and needles.
"I've forgotten something, Joyce," said I. "Get in a minute and take
the reins. I'll call a boy to hold the horse's head."
She got in, and I beckoned a lad hard by, who went to the animal's
head. But before I had been in the shop a moment a cry from Joyce
called me back. The mare was rearing. Whether the lad had teased her or
not I do not know, but the mare was rearing, and at her head, instead
of the lad I had called, was Captain Forrester. We did not know what
his name was then; we merely saw a tall, good-looking man in smarter
clothes than were usually worn by the dandies of the neighborhood,
soothing the restless animal, who soon showed that she recognized a
friend. Joyce was as white as a sheet; but when the young man turned to
me and said, raising his hat, "Miss Joyce Maliphant, I believe," she
blushed as red as a poppy.
It was strange that he should know her name so well.
"No," said I, "I am not Joyce; I am Margaret Maliphant. My sister's
name is Joyce."
I waved towards her as I spoke. Perhaps I was a little off-hand;
folk say I always am. I suppose I must have been, for he muttered a
half-apology.
"I should not have ventured to intrude," said he, "but that I know the
nature of this animal. Strangely enough, she belonged to me once. She
is not suitable for a lady's driving."
"Why," said I, puzzled and half doubtful, "father bought her only last
week from Squire Broderick."
"Exactly," smiled he, and I noticed what a pleasant, genial smile he
had. "I sold the mare to Squire Broderick myself. I know him very well."
"Oh!" ejaculated I, I am afraid still far from graciously.
He was still standing by the horse, stroking its neck.
"Yes," he repeated, and his tone was not a jot less pleasant because I
had spoken so very ungraciously. "She used to belong to me. She has a
bit of a temper."
"I like a horse with a little temper," answered I. "A horse that has a
hard mouth is dull driving."
I said it out of pure intent to brag, for I had been offended at its
being supposed I could not drive any horse. As I spoke, I put my
foot on the step to mount the dog-cart. As soon as the mare felt
the movement behind her she reared again slightly. Captain Forrester
quieted her afresh, but still there was no doubt about it, she had
reared.
"Oh, Margaret," sighed Joyce, "I'm sure we shall never get home safely!"