She tossed her turbaned head, and, stanch old Methodist that she was, began crooning a "'vival" tune, wherewith to bolster up her sinking courage. Julia came to a standstill in the smoke-house doorway. Within, with his back to her, stood Peter. A curry-comb was in one hand, and a brush in the other. He had evidently come to a halt while making The Prince's morning toilet, to spend a few moments in silent contemplation and admiration. He had withdrawn several feet from the satin-sleek form of the young colt, and reposed in an attitude of adoration, his skinny, ridged neck stretched towards the object of his devotion. Julia was compelled to speak his name twice before he heard her. Then he turned with his customary profound bow, and greeted her deferentially. "Uncle Peter, I want The Prince this morning," she said, coming straight to the point, for she knew too well the old fellow's garrulousness to attempt circumlocution. He would have kept her there till noonday. Now this was the first time Julia had ever said she would ride The Prince, and the wilfully deafened ears of Peter refused to recognize this first declaration. "Mom--missus--mom?" he ejaculated, bending slightly from the waist and looking up at her keenly and suspiciously. "D'ye say de Prince look well dis mawnin'? 'Deed he do! He's had he breakfus' 'n' a good rub down--not quite finished, though. I's tekkin' a breathin' spell w'en you come. Hahd wuk foh an' ol' nigguh gittin' de duht 'n' stuff off'n a hoss w'en he's slep' in it. 'Scuse me, missus, 'n' I'll finish wid 'im now!" Peter was sly and Peter was jealous. He heard plainly enough what his mistress had said, but he could not bear to think of the colt leaving his sight, even for a short time. His subsequent harangue was given simply to cause his mistress to forget her idea, or to forego its execution. He now approached the colt and began a vigorous attack upon its flank and hind legs, where there was no particle of dirt, and no hair out of place. "Uncle Peter!" called Julia, firmly, "did you not hear me?" "Yas'm'; I heah yo', missus!" he replied, between grunts. "I's proud you's pleased wid de way de Prince looks. Oh! he's peart, let me tell yo'!" "Come here, Uncle Peter; come to me!" He could not disobey the direct summons. He straightened up with a groan and a wry face, partly feigned and partly caused by a "ketch" from rheumatism, and shuffled forward. "I said I wanted The Prince this morning," repeated Julia, quite positively, "and I meant it. I shall want him for perhaps an hour--certainly not longer. It does not matter that I have never ridden him. I have ridden real vicious horses before father sold his racers, and this colt is gentle, and we are friends besides. He knows me--see him looking at me now?--Good morning, Prince!" She smiled and waved her hand at the intelligent face turned towards her.