“Sometimes I’ve had a terrible thought,” she said, half in a whisper. “It was that I might be forced to part with him. And--and I’ve wondered--oh, you’ll forgive me, I hope--if I have to, you’ll take him, Mr. England? He’s a perfect lady’s saddler.” “You mean,--I may need a lady’s saddler?” “Well, you--you might.” “I shall--if I have _my_ way about it.” Dear Missy turned to me again, and put her arms about my neck. “I’m not brave about this,” she whispered, and hid her face in my mane. All of a sudden he pulled her hands free and turned her toward him. “You love him,” he said. “I wonder if there’s room in your heart for anyone else, _dear_ little woman?” And just at that moment that ragamuffin of a stable-boy popped into sight. Of course, I was led away. I don’t know how I ever lived through the next few days. No Missy, no dainties, nothing but a short airing each morning to take me out of that terrible shanty. Ah, I knew what had happened to me _this_ time. I was out of the Sanborn family. I was somebody else’s lady’s saddler! Then, one morning, when the boy led me out through the gate, he started off south along the Boulevard. I had on my dress-blanket and hood. Behind me came another boy, carrying my saddle and bridle and the rest of my clothes. This was going somewhere. “They can’t find any place in New York worse than that shanty,” I said to myself. And for the first time since leaving California, I completely lost heart. I put my head down and just stumbled long. And then--I suddenly found that we had passed the Circle, turned east, and were in front of Hart’s! We mounted the runway. And _there it was_--the roomy box-stall across from Thunderbolt’s, deep with sweet bedding, and matted in Peter’s best style. And there was Missy, looking so pink and pretty! And there was Mr. England, smiling so hard he couldn’t talk! “Dear Hector!” cried Missy. “Oh, Martin, be very good to him while we’re away!” “Yes, mum,” said Martin. “And to Thunderbolt, too,” said Missy. Martin bobbed, and tugged at his cap. Then Missy reached up and pulled my head down close to her. “Darling Hector!” she whispered. “We’re home to stay!” And she kissed the star in my forehead. THE GENEVIEVE EPIDEMIC “I’m homely,” said Sue, smiling and pulling the grey pony down to a walk; “I’m the homeliest girl to be found at the Brampton Country Club. Why, even plain young married women ask me to their houses on protracted visits.” As he reined his own horse, Philip Rawson turned upon her a look of reproof. “Ridiculous!” he exclaimed. “The first time a fellow meets you, maybe he only _does_ remember your hair or your eyes. You’ve got awfully attractive eyes, Sue. But the _second_ time he sees how nice you are. And the third time he’s sure to look forward to meeting you again. But by the fourth or fifth time! Well, by gad! by the fourth or fifth time there’s no half-way about it--he thinks you’re a dandy!”