“‘Miss Fairley, be careful!’ pleaded my Major; but there wasn’t the slightest necessity. Sagitta was by her side like a flash, and was telling her how he loved her, in every way that dog could. And there he stayed till Lewis came forward, when he backed away again, snarling. “Now, in all their Washington intercourse my Major had been the surly one; but in the interval he had evidently had time to realise his mistake, and to see that he must correct it. Probably, too, he wasn’t depressed by what had just taken place. Anyway, that afternoon he was as pleasant and jolly as he knew how to be. But Mr. Lewis! Well, I acknowledge he’d had enough to make any man mad, and that was what he was. Cross, sulky, blurting out disagreeable things in a disagreeable voice, with a disagreeable face: he did make an exhibition of himself, so Sagitta said. “After as long a stay as was proper, my Major told them he must go, and I was brought round. Miss Fairley came to the stoop with him, and didn’t I prick up my ears when I heard her say: “‘Since you were defrauded of your ride to-day, Major Moran, perhaps you will lunch here to-morrow, and afterward we will see if we can’t be more successful?’ “The next day our interference was done a little differently. When we were brought round to the door, there was Mr. Lewis with a pair of cruelly big rowelled spurs on his boots, a brutal Mexican quirt in his hand, and a look on his face to match the two. Of course the grey gave him a lot of trouble in mounting, but we had already planned a different policy; and so, after enough snorting and trembling to make Felicia look thoughtful, he finally was allowed to get on Mr. Solitaire’s back. “Much good it did him! The filly and I paired off just as if we were having a bridle trip in double harness; but do his best, Mr. Lewis could not keep the grey abreast of us. Twenty feet in front, or thirty feet behind, that was where he was during the whole ride, and Lewis fought one long battle trying to make it otherwise. He had had the reins buckled to the lower bar of the curb, so it must have been pretty bad for the grey, but there was no flinching about him. “Every now and then I could hear the blows of the quirt behind me; and when, occasionally, the grey passed us, I could see his sides gored and bleeding where they had been torn by the spurs, and bloody foam was all round his jaw, and flecked his chest and flanks. But he knew what he meant to do, and he did it without any heed to his own suffering. There was joy when the filly told us that every time the swish of the quirt was heard she could feel her rider shiver a little; and Felicia must have been distressed at the look of the horse, for she cut the ride short by suggesting a return home.