“They are coming this way. May I go to meet them, Mr. Cramer?” And Tibby, with Robbie at her heels, swiftly went across the crisp, dry turf toward the approaching horses. “Is it safe for her, Mark?” asked Elinor, looking anxiously after her protege. “Yes, come on, we will follow them.” “How lovely they are, Mr. Cramer. Are they all gentle? May I go near them?” asked Tibby as the twain approached her. “If you are not afraid, select one for your own use,” Mark replied. Tibby went nearer and surveyed them for a moment. “I like that roan the best, though he looks a trifle wicked,” she said, pointing to one a little distance from the herd. “Ah, that is Tempest. He is a little wild. Better choose again.” The horse lifted his ears and struck the ground with his fore-foot challengingly, as Tibby slowly went toward him. Mark expected to hear him snort viciously and take to his heels as she neared him, but to his surprise the horse kept his position. Then, as Tibby spoke to him, he backed a little, and again struck the ground with his foot. “Soh! Good fellow, good fellow! Come here!” Tibby paused, and holding out her hand beckoned the animal toward her. Then they stood looking at one another steadily. Finally the roan took a few steps forward, striking the ground, and seeming to question her right to command him. “Come here, I tell you!” said Tibby imperiously, again, and to the surprise of all the horse once more took a few steps nearer her. Haltingly it walked toward her, nearer, its eyes fixed on the girl and her outstretched hand. A few more steps and it was within reach, and Tibby’s hand was upon its nose and she had conquered. “Well, I’m astonished at that!” exclaimed Mark. “He’s the Devil’s own, usually. He must have an eye for beauty, the rascal.” Tibby stood and stroked the animal’s nose, whispering to him as she did so, and feeding him grass which she pulled from the ground. “You are not afraid, Tempest. You must always come when I call you. Soh! Good Tempest; come, sir, come! I’ll show you to the mistress.” And Tibby turned toward the house, the horse following the hand touching his nose. “Why, if that girl ain’t leading Tempest!” Alice exclaimed. “He’s the wildest colt of the lot. Even Mark hasn’t been able to do much with him, he’s so vixenish. And without a bridle! How did she manage it?” “She can manage almost anything,” laughed Mrs. Wylie. “I sometimes think she manages all of us. I don’t know how we should get along without her.” “Where did you find her?”