Every Girl's Library, Volume 8 of 10: A Collection of Appropriate and Instructive Reading for Girls of All Ages from the Best Authors of All Time — John Shaqi
Every Girl's Library, Volume 8 of 10: A Collection of Appropriate and Instructive Reading for Girls of All Ages from the Best Authors of All Time
General
Every Girl's Library, Volume 8 of 10: A Collection of Appropriate and Instructive Reading for Girls of All Ages from the Best Authors of All Time
Literature -- Collections
In the afternoon we were harnessed and put in the carriage, and as the
stable clock struck three we were led round to the front of the house.
It was all very grand, and three or four times as large as the old house
at Birtwick, but not half so pleasant, if a horse may have an opinion.
Two footmen were standing ready, dressed in drab livery, with scarlet
breeches and white stockings. Presently we heard the rustling sound of
silk as my lady came down the flight of stone steps. She stepped round
to look at us; she was a tall, proud-looking woman, and did not seem
pleased about something, but she said nothing, and got into the
carriage. This was the first time of wearing a check-rein, and I must
say, though it certainly was a nuisance not to be able to get my head
down now and then, it did not pull my head higher than I was accustomed
to carry it. I felt anxious about Ginger, but she seemed to be quiet and
content.
The next day at three o'clock we were again at the door, and the footmen
as before; we heard the silk dress rustle, and the lady came down the
steps, and in an imperious voice she said: "_York, you must put those
horses' heads higher; they are not fit to be seen._"
York got down, and said very respectfully, "I beg your pardon, my lady,
but these horses have not been reined up for three years, and my lord
said it would be safer to bring them to it by degrees; but, if your
ladyship pleases, I can take them up a little more."
"Do so," she said.
York came round to our heads and shortened the rein himself, one hole, I
think; every little makes a difference, be it for better or worse, and
that day we had a steep hill to go up. Then I began to understand what I
had heard of. Of course I wanted to put my head forward and take the
carriage up with a will as we had been used to do; but no, I had to pull
with my head up now, and _that took all the spirit out of me, and the
strain came on my back and legs_. When we came in, Ginger said, "Now you
see what it is like; but this is not bad, and if it does not get much
worse than this I shall say nothing about it, for we are very well
treated here; but if they strain me up tight, why, let 'em look out! I
can't bear it, and I won't."
Day by day, hole by hole, our bearing-reins were shortened, and instead
of looking forward with pleasure to having my harness put on, as I used
to do, I began to dread it. Ginger too seemed restless, though she said
very little. At last I thought the worst was over; for several days
there was no more shortening, and I determined to make the best of it
and do my duty, though it was now a constant harass instead of a
pleasure; but the worst was not come.
One day my lady came down later than usual, and the silk rustled more
than ever.
"Drive to the Duchess of B----'s," she said, and then after a pause,
"Are you never going to get those horses' heads up, York? Raise them at
once, and let us have no more of this humouring and nonsense."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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