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
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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
York came to me first, whilst the groom stood at Ginger's head. _He drew
my head back and fixed the rein so tight that it was almost
intolerable_; then he went to Ginger, who was impatiently jerking her
head up and down against the bit, as was her way now. She had a good
idea of what was coming, and the moment York took the rein off the
terret in order to shorten it, she took her opportunity, and reared up
so suddenly that York had his nose roughly hit and his hat knocked off;
the groom was nearly thrown off his legs. At once they both flew to her
head, but she was a match for them, and went on plunging, rearing, and
kicking in a most desperate manner; at last she kicked right over the
carriage pole and fell down, after giving me a severe blow on my near
quarter. There is no knowing what further mischief she might have done,
had not York promptly sat himself down flat on her head to prevent her
struggling, at the same time calling out, "Unbuckle the black horse! Run
for the winch and unscrew the carriage pole! Cut the trace here,
somebody, if you can't unhitch it!" One of the footmen ran for the
winch, and another brought a knife from the house. The groom soon set me
free from Ginger and the carriage, and led me to my box. He just turned
me in as I was, and ran back to York. I was much excited by what had
happened, and if I had ever been used to kick or rear I am sure I should
have done it then; but I never had, and there I stood, angry, sore in my
leg, my head still strained up to the terret on the saddle, and no power
to get it down. I was very miserable, and felt much inclined to kick the
first person who came near me.
Before long, however, Ginger was led in by two grooms, a good deal
knocked about and bruised. York came with her and gave his orders, and
then came to look at me. In a moment he let down my head.
"Confound these check-reins!" he said to himself; "I thought we should
have some mischief soon. Master will be sorely vexed. But here, if a
woman's husband can't rule her, of course a servant can't; so I wash my
hands of it, and if she can't get to the Duchess's garden party I can't
help it."
York did not say this before the men; he always spoke respectfully when
they were by. Now he felt me all over, and soon found the place above my
hock where I had been kicked. It was swelled and painful; he ordered it
to be sponged with hot water, and then some lotion was put on.
Lord W----was much put out when he learned what had happened; he blamed
York for giving way to his mistress, to which he replied that in future
he would much prefer to receive his orders only from his lordship; but I
think nothing came of it, for things went on the same as before. I
thought York might have stood up better for his horses, but perhaps I am
no judge.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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