"Why, my dear," he replied, seating himself, "you know your own deficiencies in domestic knowledge, but I am determined my daughter shall never fail in that important part of a woman's education; you may make her as accomplished as you please, I will take care that she is made domestic." Mrs. Armstrong had been trained in those days when to stoop to domestic duties, or to understand how to make a pie or pudding, was considered a degradation to an accomplished young lady; and to her ultra refinement there was something repulsive in the idea of her daughter learning the duties of a cook or a housemaid. But when her husband expressed himself in such a firm decided manner, she knew it was useless to offer any opposition, so she merely said faintly,--"What do you wish Mary to do?" "Send for her, my dear," he replied, "there will be no objections on her part, I am quite sure." In a few minutes Mary made her appearance, and listened to her father's proposition, the subject of which will appear in the next chapter. CHAPTER VI. BUCEPHALUS. "Mamma, oh, do come to the window, there is such a dear little pony standing at the door, and father is talking to the groom." Mrs. Armstrong advanced to the drawing-room window at her daughter's request, and joined with her in admiration of the shiny black coat, and long mane and tail of Bucephalus, whose purchase had on that morning been completed. Some idea of the truth occurred to both mother and daughter when Rowland appeared and led the pony away. In a very few minutes Mr. Armstrong himself entered the room, startling Mary by the question,--"Well, my daughter, how do like your new pony?" "Mine, father?" (one of Mr. Armstrong's peculiar fancies made him object to be called "papa," considering it another form of "aping the gentry"). How the blue eyes glittered and the face lighted up with pleasure and astonishment as Mary spoke. "Yes, my dear, it is yours on the conditions I spoke of yesterday," replied her father, seating himself and drawing his daughter to his side; "will you be able to fulfil them?" "I will try, father," she replied, glancing at her mother. "Your mother will not object, I know," he said, noticing the glance; "but now listen, and I will tell you more clearly what I expect you to do, and your reward will be riding lessons for three months at the Riding School, Albany Street, and the attendance of Rowland while you canter round the Parks, any morning you like, before breakfast--hear me out, Mary," he continued, interrupting her expressions of delight--"Rowland will have orders from me to be here at seven in summer, and eight in winter, and if you are not ready for your ride within five minutes of the time, he is to take the ponies back to the stable, and you will lose your ride." "Oh, I don't think that will ever happen, dear father," she replied. "I am so delighted I hardly know how to thank you enough."