Bella felt pleased, but slightly doubtful as to the advantage of such a combination of strength, playfulness, and agility. The horses she had ridden at Mr. Hammerman’s Riding Academy had not been given to playfulness. Nor did she feel sure that a creature with gladiatorial sinews and leonine strength would be altogether the nicest thing to ride. She might be tired before he was. However, she was full of pride at the idea of having a horse of such distinguished beauty, and of being able to lord it over the Miss Porkmans, who were very proud of their horsemanship, and very fond of talking about their hairbreadth ‘scapes and ventures, and how they had taken it out of their horses, which, according to their own account, were of a very wild and dangerous breed. Bella had no doubt she would be able to take it out of the black. She was glad he was black. There is something so common about a bay. She could hardly rest till Thursday morning came. She went half-a-dozen times to the stables to see that the black’s loose box was properly prepared, with its fringes and decorations of plaited straw, and all the newest improvements in stable fittings. She was walking up and down the broad gravel drive in front of the portico, when the captain appeared, riding his handsome chestnut, followed by a groom, who led a creature so clothed and knee-capped and hooded, that nothing was visible but checked kerseymere. He appeared, furthermore, to have a monstrous hump, which gave him the appearance of a Bactrian camel. ‘I should have ridden him over myself, but I would not bring him to you with the dust of the road upon him,’ said the captain, dismounting, and shaking hands, a lingering hand-shake with a tender little pressure at the end. ‘Now, Dobbs, off with the clothes.’ The black was stripped in a minute or two, and stood before them in all his beauty, a glossy-coated, thoroughbred, finely moulded creature, with a backward roll of his full eye, and an alert movement of his delicate ear, common to horses of his high breeding. ‘Isn’t he perfect?’ asked the captain, contemplating his purchase with the eye of pride. ‘He is lovely, and I don’t know how to thank you,’ answered Bella, watching the black’s restless eyeball; ‘but isn’t he dreadfully high-spirited? You know I don’t pretend to be a Diana Vernon.’ ‘You could not do anything badly if you tried,’ said the captain. ‘Don’t be alarmed. Erebus has a lovely temper. With your light little hand on his snaffle, and with a comfortable bit in his mouth, he’ll go as gently as a Shetland pony.’ ‘Is he called Erebus?’ ‘Yes, he was sold under that name. You can change it if you like.’ ‘No, I think it’s rather a good name,’ answered Bella, patting Erebus’s velvet nose, a liberty which he endured with perfect affability. ‘It isn’t common.’ The Miss Porkmans’ horses were called Prince and Daisy.