“‘Thanks, no,’ answered my pal, rather curtly, I thought; and putting his left hand on me, into the saddle he vaulted. But he was foolish to do it, as he said ‘Ouch!’ below his breath; and he must have turned pale, for Miss Fairley cried out, ‘Mr. Lewis, quick! He’s going to faint!’ “‘Nothing of the kind,’ denied my backer, giving a good imitation laugh, even while his hand gripped my neck and I felt him swerve in the saddle. ‘Miss Fairley, I will not let even you keep me an interesting invalid. If there was any fighting left, I should long since have been ordered to the front by the surgeons; but now they wink their eyes at shirking.’ “‘I told you you ought not to go, and now I’m sure of it,’ urged Miss Fairley. ‘You’ll never be able to control such a superb and spirited horse with only your left arm.’” “Bet that’s a subsequent piece of embroidery,” whispered the polo pony to his nearest neighbor. “Now, I have to confess that I had come out of the stable feeling full of friskiness, and I hadn’t by any means worked it off on the orderly, much of a dance as I’d given him. But the way I put a check-strap on my spirits and dropped my tail and ears and head was a circumstance, I tell you. “‘There’s not the slightest cause for alarm,’ my confrère answered her. ‘The old scamp has an inclination to lose his head in battle, but he’s steady enough as a roadster.’ “‘I really wish, though, that you wouldn’t insist on coming,’ persisted Miss Fairley, anxiously. ‘You know—’ “‘Of course, Miss Fairley,’ interrupted my Major, with a nasty little laugh, ‘if you prefer to have your ride a solitude _à deux_, and I am in—’ “‘Shall we start?’ interrupted Miss Fairley, her cheeks very red, and her eyes blazing. She didn’t wait for an answer, but touched up the filly into a trot, and for the first mile or two not a word would she say to my colleague; and even when he finally got her to answer him, she showed that she wasn’t going to forget that speech. “Well, what began like this went from bad to worse. He wasn’t even aware that he had been shockingly rude, and never so much as apologised for his speech. When Miss Fairley didn’t ask him to ride with them the next day, he ordered me saddled, and joined them on the road; and this he did again and again, though she was dreadfully cool to him. My dear seemed unable to behave. He couldn’t be himself. He was rude to Mr. Lewis, sulky to Miss Fairley, and kept a dreadful rein on me. That week was the only time in my life when he rode me steadily on the curb. My grief! how my jaw did ache!” “I wish it would now,” interrupted the cob, sulkily. Let it be said here that horses are remarkably sweet-natured but this particular one was developing a splint, and was inevitably cross. “Don’t be a nag,” requested one of the mares.