ickly Romeo will take me to the 'Spring.'"

"I wouldn't care to ride horseback," said Floretta, rudely.

"You won't care to spin tops in this hall if Matson catches you," cried
a shrill voice, from an upper hall.

"Pooh! I'm not afraid of Matson," Floretta said, boldly, looking up at
the boy who had tried to frighten her.

"Oh, aren't you?" said the boy in a teasing voice. "Well, he manages
this hotel, and he'll _make_ you stop if he catches you!"

"You stop, Jack Tiverton!" cried Floretta.

"You'll be the one to stop!" said Jack, with a loud laugh.

Dorothy crossed the hall, stepping around Floretta, who stood exactly in
the way.

Looking back, she saw Floretta show the tip of her tongue to Jack, while
Jack, not to be outdone, made a most outrageous face.

"I wish they weren't so horrid!" Dorothy said to herself, as she left
the hall.

Having mounted Romeo, with the groom's aid, she rode off down the
lovely, shady road, the man on his horse, following at a respectful
distance.

She touched the pony lightly with her whip, and he responded by breaking
into a gentle gallop.

Dorothy's bright curls flew back from her flushed face, and she laughed
as she flew over the road.

The groom watched her admiringly, and marvelled that so small a girl
could be such a perfect little equestrienne.

The ride had brightened her eyes, and she always looked smaller than she
really was when mounted upon Romeo.

He was a handsome animal, with flowing mane and tail, and the groom
spoke truthfully when he muttered:

"Them two makes a high-bred pair. Miss Dorothy is a girl 'ristycrat, an'
the little hoss is a hoss 'ristycrat, if ever there was one."

The groom had been in the service of the Dainty family but a few
months, but in that time he had become devoted to the little daughter of
the house. All the servants loved Dorothy, and were almost as fond of
Nancy Ferris.

The young groom had heard Nancy's story, and he felt a deep interest in
the little girl, who once had been a waif.

Now, his pleasant face wore a smile as he followed Dorothy, and saw how
firmly the little figure stuck to the saddle, and rode as if girl and
pony were one and inseparable.

They reached the "Spring," a spot whose beauty drew all travellers to
it, and artists lingered there to paint, and thus perpetuate its charm.

Romeo looked down at the clear stream that reflected his figure so
perfectly.

"He wants a drink," said Dorothy; "lead him