“It is fortunate for Billy that you did not, or his future might have been a miserable one; might it not, old fellow?” he answered as he reached out to take the horse’s leader. But Billy’s faith in mankind had been sorely shaken, and he started aside. “Tut, tut!” said Mr. Ryder, “this is a bad business, and I think I shall have to impose upon your friendship for Billy by asking you to lead him to the stable for me, since he seems so fearful of ill-treatment. What is your name, little maid? We have been neighbors six weeks, but I am so rarely home that I am almost a stranger here.” “Marion Taylor,” was the reply. “Come, Billy,” she added, “I didn’t know your name before, but we got acquainted, didn’t we, dear?” and she laid her flushed face against the warm, silky neck. “Have you more horses?” she asked as they walked along together. “Yes, a large number, for I raise them. Billy, here, is one of my handsomest, and, but for his unfortunate disposition, he would be the most valuable. I understand him better now, I think.” “Oh, I hope so! He is so beautiful, and I am sure he would love me dearly if I could see him every day. May I?” “You certainly may, and tell your father that Mr. Ryder will give himself the pleasure of calling upon him this evening,” he said, as he shook hands with her and said good-by at the stable door. Marion, with Jingles at her heels, ran swiftly home across the field, while Mr. Ryder went in quest of the delinquent Sam, with whom he had an interview--brief, but very much to the point. A few hours later he was seated on Mr. Taylor’s delightful piazza enjoying with him an after-dinner cigar as they talked, for they soon discovered that theirs was really an old acquaintance rather than a new one, since both had been students at the same university years before. When Mr. Ryder said good-night at eleven o’clock, Billy had become Mr. Taylor’s property, for the latter had long been in search of a well-trained saddle-horse for Marion, and was glad to find such a desirable one. “Marion will cure any peculiarities of disposition he may possess,” he said; “the child loves horses better than she loves people, I believe; at all events, she understands them better and they her.” “You missed a good deal by not seeing her this afternoon,” replied Mr. Ryder. “By Jove! she gave it to Sam in good, round, set terms. I don’t believe the fellow has recovered yet,” and he laughed as he recalled the little girl’s righteous wrath. As Marion stood upon the piazza next morning she was surprised to see Billy led in at the gate. “Why, papa,” she called to her father, who sat in the dining room behind her, “they are bringing Billy in here; what does it mean?”