the reins, and sitting straight on an old saddle in a tree. Now she rides anything, for she don't know what fear is, and the stable-man lets her have horses cheap, because she trains them to carry ladies so well. She has such a passion for it, I often tell her if everything else fails she can be a pretty horse-breaker, and get her living so."
At this awful speech Amy contained herself with difficulty, for the impression was being given that she was rather a fast young lady, which was her especial aversion. But what could she do? for the old lady was in the middle of her story, and long before it was done Jo was off again, making more droll revelations, and committing still more fearful blunders.
"Yes, Amy was in despair that day, for all the good beasts were gone, and of three left, one was lame, one blind, and the other so balky that you had to put dirt in his mouth before he would start. Nice animal for a pleasure party, wasn't it?"
"Which did she choose?" asked one of the laughing gentlemen, who enjoyed the subject.
"None of them; she heard of a young horse at the farm-house over the river, and, though a lady had never ridden him, she resolved to try, because he was handsome and spirited. Her struggles were really pathetic; there was no one to bring the horse to the saddle, so she took the saddle to the horse. My dear creature, she actually rowed it over the river, put it on her head, and marched up to the barn, to the utter amazement of the old man!"
"Did she ride the horse?"
"Of course she did, and had a capital time. I expected to see her brought home in fragments, but