“’Pends on the man,” she answered, shifting from one foot to the other, and addressing herself to the home horses. “They abused me dreffle when I was young. I guess I was sperrity an’ nervous some, but they didn’t allow for that. ’Twas in Monroe County, Noo York, an’ sence then till I come here, I’ve run away with more men than ’u’d fill a boardin’-house. Why, the man that sold me here he says to the boss, s’ he: ‘Mind, now, I’ve warned you. ’Twon’t be none of my fault if she sheds you daown the road. Don’t you drive her in a top-buggy, ner ’thout winkers,’ s’ he, ‘ner ’thout this bit ef you look to come home behind her.’ ’N’ the fust thing the boss did was to git the top-buggy. “Can’t say as I like top-buggies,” said Rick; “they don’t balance good.” “Suit me to a ha’ar,” said Marcus Aurelius Antoninus. “Top-buggy means the baby’s in behind, an’ I kin stop while she gathers the pretty flowers—yes, an’ pick a maouthful, too. The women-folk all say I hev to be humoured, an’ I don’t kerry things to the sweatin’-point.” “’Course I’ve no pre_jud_ice against a top-buggy s’ long’s I can see it,” Tedda went on quickly. “It’s ha’f-seein’ the pesky thing bobbin’ an’ balancin’ behind the winkers gits on _my_ nerves. Then the boss looked at the bit they’d sold with me, an’ s’ he: ‘Jiminy Christmas! This ’u’d make a clothes-horse stan’ ’n end!’ Then he gave me a plain bar bit, an’ fitted it’s if there was some feelin’ to my maouth.” “Hain’t ye got any, Miss Tedda?” said Tuck, who has a mouth like velvet, and knows it. “Might ’a’ had, Miss Tuck, but I’ve forgot. Then he give me an open bridle,—my style’s an open bridle—an’—I dunno as I ought to tell this by rights—he—give—me—a kiss.” “My!” said Tuck, “I can’t tell fer the shoes o’ me what makes some men so fresh.” “Pshaw, sis,” said Nip, “what’s the sense in actin’ so? _You_ git a kiss reg’lar’s hitchin’-up time.” “Well, you needn’t tell, smarty,” said Tuck, with a squeal and a kick. “I’d heard o’ kisses, o’ course,” Tedda went on, “but they hadn’t come my way specially. I don’t mind tellin’ I was that took aback at that man’s doin’s he might ha’ lit fire-crackers on my saddle. Then we went out jest’s if a kiss was nothin’, an’ I wasn’t three strides into my gait ’fore I felt the boss knoo his business, an’ was trustin’ me. So I studied to please him, an’ he never took the whip from the dash—a whip drives me plumb distracted—an’ the upshot was that—waal, I’ve come up the Back Pasture to-day, an’ the coupé’s tipped clear over twice, an’ I’ve waited till ’twuz fixed each time. You kin judge for yourselves. I don’t set up to be no better than my neighbours,—specially with my tail snipped off the way ’tis,—but I want you all to know Tedda’s quit fightin’ in harness or out of it, ’cep’ when there’s a born fool in the pasture, stuffin’ his stummick with board that ain’t rightly hisn, ’cause he hain’t earned it.” “Meanin’ me, madam?” said the yellow horse.