Shrinking, blushing, and horribly
conscious of her pants, Jane followed Nora from her bedroom. A swift
glance she threw around the room. To her joy it was empty but for Mrs.
Gwynne, who was ready with a big glass of rich milk and a slice of
home-made bread and delicious butter.

"Good morning, my dear," said Mrs. Gwynne, kissing her. "You will need
something before you ride. You will have breakfast after your return."

Jane went close to her and stood beside her, still blushing. "Oh, thank
you," she cried, "I am really hungry already. I hope I won't get killed.
I never was on a horse before, you know."

"Oh, never fear, Lawrence is very careful. If it were Nora now I would
not be so sure about you, but Lawrence is quite safe."

At this point Larry came in. "Well, Jane, all ready? Good for you. I
like a girl that is always on time."

"How do you like her pants, Larry?" said Nora, wickedly.

"Perfectly splendiferous," cried Larry.

"Oh, you mean thing, Nora," cried Jane, dropping hurriedly into a chair
with scarlet face and indignant eyes.

"Come along, Jane, old chap, don't mind her. Those pants never looked
so well before, I assure you. We are going to have a great time. I
guarantee that in a few minutes you will be entirely oblivious of such
trivial things as mere pants."

They all passed out into the front yard to see Jane mount and take her
first lesson.

"This is Polly," said Larry. "She has taught us all to ride, and though
she has lost her shape a bit, she has still 'pep' enough to decline to
take a dare."

"What do I do?" said Jane, gazing fearfully at the fat and shapeless
Polly.

"There is just one rule in learning to ride," said Larry, "step on and
stick there. Polly will look after the rest."

"Step on--it is easy to say, but--"

"This way," said Nora. She seized hold of the horn of the saddle, put
her foot into the stirrup and sprang upon Polly's back. "Oh, there's
where the pants come in," she added as her dress caught on to the rear
of the saddle. "Now up you go. Make up your mind you are going to DO it,
not going to TRY."

A look of serious determination came into Jane's face, a look that
her friends would have recognised as the precursor of a resolute and
determined attempt to achieve the thing in hand. She seized the horn of
the saddle, put her foot into the stirrup and "stepped on."

The riding lesson was an unqualified success, though for some reason,
known only to herself, Polly