she made him out, busily girthing up. Bobs was already
saddled, and Norah went up to him.

"Why, you have been quick, Cecil," she said, cheerfully. "I thought I
was going to help you, but there doesn't seem anything for me to do.
Thanks very much for saddling Bobs." She led the pony out, and then
stopped. "Oh, what a pity," she said. "You've got the wrong saddles on,
Cecil."

Cecil came out, leading the brown mare, and a little flushed.

"I did it on--ah--purpose," he said. "You don't mind, I suppose if I ride
Bobs home?"

Norah looked at him a moment, and then flushed in her turn. To let her
cousin ride Bobs seventeen miles was unthinkable. She had the
profoundest regard for her pony's back; and she knew that even Brown
Betty's seasoned hide was giving way under the unskilled horsemanship
of the city boy. It was very doubtful, moreover, that it would be safe
to mount him on Bobs, who was already excited with the coming storm and
the prospect of home. She knew every turn, and thought of the
high-spirited pony--he went quietly for her, but with a new-chum it
might be a different matter.

Moreover, Norah was distinctly annoyed. She was a sweet-tempered
maiden, but she did not like being treated lightly; and in assuming
that he might coolly appropriate her special property, it seemed to her
that Cecil was treating her very lightly indeed. She had a moment's
swift wish that Jim were there to take her part. It was not quite easy
to oppose any one nearly grown up like Cecil--who in addition was a
guest, and had a special claim on courtesy. She flushed deeply as she
answered him in a low voice.

"I can't let you ride Bobs, I'm afraid, Cecil."

"Oh, can't you?" said Cecil, staring. "Why not?"

"Well, no one rides him but me," said Norah unhappily. "And he's a
queer pony, Cecil. I'm not a bit sure that he'd go nicely with you. You
see, I understand him."

"You evidently think no one can ride but yourself," Cecil said
disagreeably. "I really think I can manage the famous Bobs."

"If you knew him it might be all right," Norah answered. "But I'd
really rather not, Cecil. He's eager and impatient, and quite
unaccustomed to strangers. Dad would be awfully annoyed if you had any
trouble with him."

"I don't fancy Uncle David would be given any need for annoyance,"
Cecil replied. "I'm a bit sick of this old mare, and I don't think it
would hurt you to lend me Bobs. It's uncommonly selfish of you to want
to keep him alwa