nd drove very slowly to the door.

However, she heard the unaccustomed noise of wheels, and looked out of
the parlor window. She did not see me, but immediately came around
to the door. I hurried out of the carriage so quickly that, not being
familiar with the steps, I barely escaped tripping.

When she opened the front door she was surprised to see me standing by
the horse.

"Have you hired a carriage?" she cried. "Are we going to ride?"

"My dear," said I, as I took her by the hand, "we are going to ride. But
I have not hired a carriage. I have bought one. Do you see this horse?
He is ours--our own horse."

If you could have seen the face that was turned up to me,--all you other
men in the world,--you would have torn your hair in despair.

Afterward she went around and around that horse; she patted his smooth
sides; she looked, with admiration, at his strong, well-formed legs; she
stroked his head; she smoothed his mane; she was brimful of joy.

When I had brought the horse some water in a bucket--and what a pleasure
it was to water one's own horse!--Euphemia rushed into the house and got
her hat and cloak, and we took a little drive.

I doubt if any horse ever drew two happier people. Euphemia said but
little about the carriage. That was a necessary adjunct, and it was good
enough for the present. But the horse! How nobly and with what vigor
he pulled us up the hills and how carefully and strongly he held the
carriage back as we went down! How easily he trotted over the level
road, caring nothing for the ten miles he had gone that afternoon! What
a sensation of power it gave us to think that all that strength and
speed and endurance was ours, that it would go where we wished, that it
would wait for us as long as we chose, that it was at our service day
and night, that it was a horse, and we owned it!

When we returned, Pomona saw us drive in,--she had not known of our
ride,--and when she heard the news she was as wild with proud delight as
anybody. She wanted to unharness him, but this I could not allow. We did
not wish to be selfish, but after she had seen and heard what we thought
was enough for her, we were obliged to send her back to the kitchen for
the sake of the dinner.

Then we unharnessed him. I say we, for Euphemia stood by and I explained
everything, for some day, she said, she might want to do it herself.
Then I led him into the stable. How nobly he trod, and how finely his
hoofs sounded on the