She was becoming a veritable sluggard. Were her days of usefulness and activity over? Should he never need her again?
At this point in her daily musing there usually came in sight at the bend of the road the cause of all her dolour. At first it looked each time to Annie like an immense ball rolling very fast. But as it approached it invariably resolved itself into that well-loved and sadly missed little figure mounted on what she felt convinced were two of the phaeton wheels, and working the dear little legs up and down with the vigour and precision of a trip-hammer.
When it came quite in front of them Judy would laugh and clap her hands and cry, "Bravo, bravo," as it sped by. And then Annie, recognising an obligation, would try to toss up her head with her old spirit and to follow with a glad neigh. But the stupidest horse in the world could have seen that she made a miserable failure of it, for there was no gladness in it—more of a sob, if a horse knows anything about a sob.
To come to the point, Kit had surrendered to a bicycle.
Morning, noon, and night, for the past two months, it had absorbed every spare hour. There had been a rather difficult argument with Judy at the first, but having once yielded, she became as enthusiastic a partisan as Kit himself. It was a distinguishing trait in her that she entered into every experience of his with as much active interest as though the experience were her own. She speedily made herself an authority, therefore, on gearing, and adjustment, and saddles, and pedals, and all the rest, that he might enjoy an advantage at every point. She took the keenest pride in his riding. It was not enough that he could make the best time and the longest distance; he must be the best to look upon as well. And so she devised the trimmest of costumes and the neatest of caps. And he must sit correctly and he must pedal properly, until, taking it all in all, Kit's bicycle
