y blankets; for a stylish
hackney, you know, must be kept closely clipped, no matter what the
weather. Why, even Dan, muffled in his big coat and bear-skin
shoulder-cape, was half frozen. But Dan could leave the footman on the
box and go to warm himself in the glittering corner saloons, and when he
came back it would be the footman's turn. For Topsy and Bonfire there
was no such relief. Chilled, tired, and hungry, they must stamp and wait
until at last, far down the street, could be heard the shouting of the
strong-lunged carriage-caller. When Dan got his number they were quite
ready for the homeward dash.

Seeing them come down the street, heads tossing, pole-chains jingling,
the crest and monogram of the house of Jerry glistening on quarter cloth
and rosette, their polished hoofs seeming barely to touch the asphalt,
you might have thought their lot one to be envied. But Bonfire and Topsy
knew better.

It was altogether too heavy work for high-bred hackneys, of course. Mr.
Jerry pointed this out, but to no use. Mrs. Jerry asked pertinently
what good horses were for if not to be used. No, she wanted no livery
teams for the night work. When she rode she wished to ride behind Topsy
and Bonfire. They were her horses, anyway. She would do as she pleased.
And she did.

Summer brought neither rest nor relief. Early in July horses, servants,
and carriages would be shipped off to Newport or Saratoga, there to
begin again the unceasing whirl. And fly time, to a docktailed horse, is
a season of torment.

Of Mrs. Jerry, who had once roused the Garden for his sake, Bonfire
caught but glimpses. After that first day, when he was a novelty, he
heard no more compliments, received no more pats from her gloved hands.
But of slight or neglect Bonfire knew nothing. He curved his neck and
threw his hoofs high, whether his muscles ached or no; in winter he
stamped to keep warm, in summer to dislodge the flies; he did his work
faithfully, early or late, in cold and in heat; and all this because he
was a son of Sir Bardolph and for the reason that it was his nature to.
Had it been put upon him he would have worked in harness until he
dropped, prancing his best to the last.

No supreme test, however, was ever brought to the endurance and
willingness of Bonfire. They just kept him on the pole, nerves tense,
muscles strained, until he began to lose form. His action no longer had
that grace and abandon which so pleased Mrs. Jerry when she fi