COMMON SENSE AND HORSE SENSE
As has no doubt already been suspected, Alfred Dawson, Riding Master at
the Columbia Heights School, was such a complete impostor that he
actually imposed upon himself. He is by no means the only one on record.
Oddly enough we are all more or less impostors, blind to our own pet
foibles, deluded as to our own little weaknesses. Dawson's methods with
his charges, both two-footed and four, were the methods of thousands of
others, whether they have the directing of young people, or the training
of animal's entrusted to them. Like grains of corn--pour them into a
hopper and they come out at the other end meal--of some sort--good--bad
or indifferent as it happens--that was not _his_ concern; his job was to
pour in the grains and he knew of but one way to pour--just as someone
else had poured before him. That he might devise new and better methods
of pouring never entered his square-shaped head. It was left for a
fifteen-year-old girl, and an old darky, whom in his secret heart he
regarded as no better than the dirt beneath his feet, to start volcanic
eruptions destined to shake the very foundations of his
self-complacence. Hitherto he had simply been lord of his realm. He had
come to Columbia Heights highly recommended by the father of one of its
pupils and had assumed undisputed control. Mrs. Vincent, like hundreds
of other women who own horses, but who know about as much concerning
their care and well-being as they know of what is needful for a Rajah's
herd of elephants, judged wholly by the outward evidences. The horses
came to the house in seemingly faultless condition: their coats shone,
their harness seemed immaculate; they behaved in a most exemplary
manner. Nor had anything ever happened to the young ladies while they
were in Dawson's care. What more could a conscientious school Principal
ask of her riding master? It had never occurred to her to appear in the
stables when least expected; to examine harness, saddles, stalls, feed
mangers, bedding; to study the expressions of her horses' faces as she
would have studied her girls. How many women ever think of doing so? It
never entered her head to argue that there was more reason for it. Few
of her girls would have hesitated to express their minds had any one
misused them, or to insist upon comfortable conditions should
uncomfortable ones exist for them.
Yet Mrs. Vincent, sweet, strong, kind, and just to everyone, was as
blind as a babe to the impositions practiced by the oily-tongued,
deferential Dawson. True, he did 'get upon her nerves' now and again,
but she secretly reproached herself for what she felt to be her American
prejudices, and by way of self-discipline overlooked in Dawson many
little aggravating peculiarities which she would have felt it her duty
to instantly correct in the other servants.
And no doubt things would have gone on in exactly the same way
indefinitely had not a little lassie who loved horses and animals as she
loved human beings, and whose understanding of them and their
understanding of her was almost uncanny, chosen Columbia Heights School
for her Alma Mater.
That was a red letter hour for Dawson. He had a vague feeling that some
influence, perhaps his evil genius, was bestirring itself. At all
events, he was ill at ease, something of his accustomed self-conceit was
lacking and he was, as the result, somewhat irritable, though he dared
not manifest open resentment.
Now it need hardly be stated that Peggy had no premeditated intention of
antagonizing the man. He meant no more to her than dozens of other
grooms, for after all he was merely an upper servant, but her quick eyes
had instantly made some discoveries which hurt her as a physical needle
prick would have hurt her. Peggy had employed too many men at Severndale
under Shelby's wonderful judgment and experience of both men and
animals, not to judge pretty accurately, and _most_ intuitively, the
type of man mounted upon big, gray "Duke." Duke's very ears and eyes
told Peggy and Polly a little story which would have made Dawson's pale
blue eyes open wider than usual could he have translated it.
As Peggy and Polly went cavorting away across the ring, Dawson called
rather peremptorily:
"Young ladies, you will be good enough to come back and take your places
beside the others. This is a riding lesson, not a circus show, _hif_ you
please."
Polly shot a quick glance at Peggy. There was the slightest possible
pressure of their knees and Shashai and Silver Star glided back to their
places beside the other four horses.
"Now you will please 'old your reins and your bodies as the other young
ladies do," commanded Dawson.
"Never could do it in this world, Dawson. I'd have a crick in my back
in two minutes. Besides, we're not out here for lessons, Miss Stewart
and I, but just as spectators. We'll look on and see the other girls
learn the proper caper," laughed Polly.
"Then I can't for the life of me hunderstand why you came hout at all.
Hit's just a-stirrin' hup and a-fidgeting the other 'orses. They're not
used to the goin's hon of 'alf broke hanimals."
"Half broken! It seems to me, Dawson, that most horses are _wholly_
broken but very few wholly _trained_. If we disturb the others, however,
we'll go off for a spin by ourselves. Come, Polly. Full speed, Tzaritza!
Four bells, Shashai!" and away sped the trio, Tzaritza, like the
obedient creature she was, bounding from the platform where Peggy had
bidden her "charge," lest she startle the horses.
"I'll hopen the gate for you, Miss," Dawson hastened to call, a trifle
doubtful as to whether he had not been just a little too dictatorial.
"No need. This gate is nothing," called Peggy and as one, they skimmed
over the four-foot iron gate as though it were four inches, hands
waving, eyes alight, lips parted in gay laughter. Tzaritza's joyful bark
mingling with their voices as she rushed away.
The girls' cries of admiration or amazement drowned Dawson's:
"Well, 'Hi'll be blowed! Hi couldn't a done hit like that to save me
'ead," which was quite true, for very few could ride as these young
girls rode.
Meanwhile back in the circle two of Dawson's pupils were expressing
themselves without reserve.
"I mean to learn to ride like _that_," announced Rosalie Breeze. "The
idea of bouncing up and down in a stupid old side-saddle when we could
just as well sit as Polly and Peggy do. Why, I never saw anything as
graceful as those two girls in my life. Can't _you_ show me how, Dawson?
If you can't you can just make up your mind I am going to find someone
who _can_. Jack-o'-Lantern's sure enough disgusted with _this_ show-down,
and I believe that's the reason he has no more spirit than a bossy-cow."
"I'm going to speak to Mrs. Vincent," announced Juno. "This may be all
very conventional and correct, but all I can do is rise and fall in a
trot; I'm petrified if Lady Belle breaks into a canter, and if she were
to leap over that fence, I'd break my neck. Yet did you ever _see_
anything so graceful as those two girls and that magnificent dog when
they went over? I tell you, girls, we've got something worth while in
this school now, believe me. And just you wait!" and with this cryptic
ending Juno jockeyed ahead of her companions.
"I wish mother could have seen and heard it all," whispered Natalie.
"Then why don't you tell her, and ask her to come out and see those
girls ride," demanded Rosalie.
"That's exactly what I mean _to_ do," replied Natalie, with an emphatic
little nod. "I'm beginning to believe we don't know half we should know
about the stables."
"I should imagine that Mrs. Vincent would be a far better judge of what
was proper for young ladies than a couple of perfectly lawless girls who
have been brought up on a Southern ranch or something. _I_ call them
perfect hoydens and they would not be countenanced a moment in the Back
Bay," was Isabel's superior opinion.
"A Southern ranch?" echoed Rosalie, "You're mixed in your geography,
Isabel. They have plantations and estates in the South, but the ranches
are out West. But I don't wonder you prefer bumping along as you do on
the old Senator. You match him all right, all right. But just you wait
until we leave you behind when we've learned to ride like Peggy and
Polly, for we're going to do it, you can just bet your best hat."
"Thank you, I never indulge in betting or slang. Both are vulgar in the
extreme. And as to riding like a circus performer, I have higher aims in
life."
"Going in for the trapeze? They say it's fine to reduce embonpoint."
No reply was made to Rosalie's gibe and the lesson went on in its usual
uneventful manner. Meanwhile Peggy and Polly were having a glorious game
of tag, for the Columbia Heights grounds were very extensive, and drives
led in every direction. When pursued and pursuer were in a perfect gale
of merriment, and Tzaritza giving way to her most joyous cavortings, a
sudden turn brought them upon Mrs. Vincent. She was seated upon a rustic
bench in one of the cosy nooks of the grounds and Tzaritza, bounding
ahead, was the first to see her, and Tzaritza never forgot a kindness.
The next second she had dropped upon the ground at Mrs. Vincent's feet,
her nose buried in her forepaws--Tzaritza's way of manifesting her
allegiance and affection. Then up she rose, rested her feet upon the
bench and for the second time laid her head upon Mrs. Vincent's
shoulder. Before that gratified lady had time to do more than place an
arm about the big dog's neck, Peggy's and Polly's chargers had come to
a halt in front of her and at word of command stood as still as statues.
The girls slipped from the horses' backs, as bonny a pair as ever
thrilled an older woman's soul.
"Oh, Mrs. Vincent, we've had such a race!" cried Polly, smiling into
Mrs. Vincent's face with her irresistible smile.
"Isn't it good just to be alive on such a day?" smiled Peggy, turning to
her as she would have turned to Mrs. Harold, her face alight. Aunt
Katherine had been Peggy's only "wet blanket" and, it had not been
wrapped about her long enough to destroy her absolute confidence in
grown-ups. Perhaps Miss Sturgis would threaten it, but all that lay in
the future.
"And to be just fifteen with all the world before you, and such animals
beside you," answered Mrs. Vincent, stroking Tzaritza and nodding toward
the horses.
"Yes, aren't they just the dearest ever? Who could help loving them?"
"Will they stand like that without being tied?"
"Oh, yes, they have always obeyed me perfectly. I wish you could see Roy
and the others. Some day you must come out to Severndale, Mrs. Vincent,
and see my four-footed children. I've such a lot of them."
"Tell me something of your home and home-life, dear. We are not very
well acquainted, you know, and that is a poor beginning."
It was a subject dear to Peggy's heart, and she needed no urging. Seated
beside Mrs. Vincent, for half an hour she talked of her life at
Severndale, Polly's interjections supplying little side-lights which
Mrs. Vincent was quick to appreciate, though Polly did not realize how
they emphasized Peggy's picture of her home.
"And you really raised those splendid horses yourself? I have never seen
their equal."
"But if you only knew how wonderfully intelligent they are, Mrs.
Vincent! Of course, Silver Star is now Polly's horse, but she has
learned to understand him so perfectly, and ride so beautifully, that he
loves her as well as he loves me and obeys her as well."
For a moment or two Mrs. Vincent's face wore an odd expression.
"Understand" a horse? To be "loved" by one? Did she "understand" those
in her stable? Did they "love" her? She almost smiled. It was such a new
viewpoint. Yet, why not? The animals upon her place were certainly
entirely dependent upon her for their happiness and comfort. But had she
ever given that fact a serious thought?
Slipping an arm about each girl as they sat beside her she asked:
"What do you think of our horses, and of Dawson? For a little
fifteen-year old lassie you seem to have had a remarkable experience."
Peggy colored, but Polly blurted out:
"I think he's a regular old hypocrite and so does Peggy. Why, Shelby
would have forty fits if any of our horses' feet were like
Jack-o'-Lantern's, or their bits as dirty as the Senator's."
"Oh, Polly, please don't!" begged Peggy. But it was too late. "What is
this?" asked Mrs. Vincent quickly.
"Well, I dare say I've made a mess of the whole thing. I generally do,
but Peggy and I do love animals so and hate to see them abused."
"Are _ours_ abused, Polly?"
"I don't suppose that generally speaking people would say they were.
Most everybody would say they were mighty well cared for, but that's
because people don't stop to think a thing about it. My goodness, _I_
didn't till Peggy made me. A horse was just a horse to me--any old
horse--if he could pull a wagon or hold somebody on his back. That he
could actually _talk_ to me never entered my head. Have you ever seen
one _do_ it?" asked Polly, full of eager enthusiasm.
"I can't say that I ever have," smiled Mrs. Vincent, and Polly quickly
retorted, though there was no trace of disrespect in her words:
"Now you are laughing at us. I knew you would. Well, no wonder, most
people would think us crazy for saying such a thing. But truly, Mrs.
Vincent, we're not. Peggy, make Shashai and Star talk to you. I'd do it,
only I'd sort of feel as though I were taking the wind out of your
sails. You are the teacher and I'm only your pupil."
"Do you really wish me to show you something of their intelligence, Mrs.
Vincent? I feel sort of foolish--as though I were trying to show off,
you know."
"Well, you are _not_, and I've an idea that for a few moments we can
exchange places to good advantage. It looks as though I had spent a vast
deal of my time acquiring a knowledge of higher mathematics and modern
languages, at the expense of some understanding of natural history and
now I'll take a lesson, please."
"Of course I don't mean to say that every animal can be taught all the
things _our_ horses have learned any more than all children, can be
equally taught. You don't expect as much of the child who has been,
misused and neglected as you do of the one who has been raised properly
and always loved. It depends a whole lot on that. Our horses have never
known fear and so we can do almost anything with them. Shashai, Star,
come and make love to Missie."
As one the two beautiful creatures came to the seat and laid their soft
muzzles upon Peggy's shoulders. Then raising their heads ran their
velvety lips over her cheeks with as gentle, caressing a touch as a
little child's fingers could have given, all the time voicing the soft,
bubbling whinney of a trustful, happy horse. Peggy reached an arm about
each satiny head. After a moment she said:
"Attention!"
Back started both horses to stand as rigid as statues.
"Salute Mrs. Vincent."
Up went each splendid head and a clear, joyous neigh was trumpeted from
the delicate nostrils.
"Call Shelby!"
What an alert expression filled the splendid eyes as the horses,
actually a-quiver with excitement, neighed again, and again for the
friend whom they loved, and looked inquiringly at Peggy when he failed
to appear.
"Where's Jess?"
Eager, impatient snorts replied.
Peggy rose to her feet and carefully knotting, the reins upon the
saddles' pommels to safeguard accidents, said:
"Go fetch him!"
Tzaritza was alert in an instant. "No, not you, Tzaritza. Charge. Four
bells, Shashai,--Star!" and away swept the horses.
"Do you mean to say they understand and will really bring Jess here?"
asked Mrs. Vincent incredulously.
"Oh, yes, indeed. They have done so dozens of times at home."
"Well, they are wonders!"
The rapid hoofbeats were now dying away in the distance. Perhaps ten
minutes elapsed when their rhythmic beat was again audible, each second
growing more distinct, then down the linden-bordered avenue came Shashai
and Star, Jess riding Shashai. The horses moved as swiftly as birds fly.
As they caught sight of Peggy they neighed loudly as though asking her
approbation. A lump of sugar awaited each obedient animal, and Jess
asked:
"What yo' wantin' ob Jess, baby-honey?"
"Just to prove to Mrs. Vincent that the horses would bring you here if I
told them to."
"Co'se dey bring me if Miss Peggy bidden 'em to," answered Jess as
though surprised that she should ask such a needless question.
"But how did you know she wished you?"
"How'd I know, Mist'ss? Why dem hawses done _tol'_ me she want me. Yas'm
dey did. Dey done come t'arin' back yonder ter de stable an' dey cotch
holt ob my sleefs wid dey teefs, and dey yank and tug me 'long outen de
do'. Den dis hyer Shashai, he stan' lak a statyer twell I hike me up on
his back, den he kite away like de bery debbil--axes yo' pardon,
ma'am!--an' hyer we-all _is_. Dat's all de _how_ dar is ob it. _Dey_
knows what folks 'specs ob 'em. Dey's eddicated hawses. Dey's been
_raised_ right."
"I think they have been. Peggy, I want to walk back to the stables with
you and Polly. I'd like to see with my own eyes some of the things you
have spoken about."
"O Mrs. Vincent, I am so afraid it will make a whole lot of trouble!
Dawson knows I criticised him--indeed, I lost my temper and said he
couldn't 'hold down a job' at Severndale. Excuse the slang, please, but
he rubbed me the wrong way with all his fuss, when he really doesn't
know, or doesn't want to know--I don't know which--one thing about
horses."
Mrs. Vincent paused a moment. "Perhaps you are right," she said. "At all
events, your sense of justice seems to be one of your strong points. Go
back to the house and let Jess take your 'children' to the stables. A
little diplomacy can do no harm. And Jess, you need not mention seeing
me with the young ladies. Your little mistress has begun my _horse_
education. I haven't been very wise about them, I fear, but now I am
going to make amends."
"Yas'm. Amens does help we-all a powerful lot when we's wrastlin' wid
we-all's sperrits. I hopes dey fotch yo' froo yo' doubtin's. I'se done
had ter say many an amen in ma day."
Jess' face was full of solicitude. He had not the remotest idea of the
source of Mrs. Vincent's turmoil of spirit, but if she found it
necessary to say "amen," Jess instantly concluded that his sympathies
were demanded. At all events he was now a part of Columbia Heights and
all within it's precincts came within his kindly solicitude. Tradition
was strong in old Jessekiah. Mrs. Vincent had much ado to keep her
countenance. She had come to Washington from a Western city and had but
slight understanding of the real devotion of the old-time negro to his
"white folks." Alas! few of the old-time ones are left. It was with a
sense of still having considerable to learn that she parted from the
girls and Jess and made her way toward the stables, reaching there some
time after Jess had unsaddled his horses and was performing their
toilets with as much care as a French maid would bestow upon her
mistress, though no French maid would ever have kept up the incessant
flow of affectionate talk to the object of her attentions that Jess was
maintaining. He took no notice of Mrs. Vincent, but _she_ did not miss
one shadow or shade of the absolute understanding existing between Jess
and his "babies," as he called them.
"Dar now, honeys," he said, as he carefully blanketed them. "Run 'long
back yander to yo' boxes. Yo' dinner's all a-ready an' a-waitin', lak de
hymn chune say, an' yo's ready fo' it. Dem children ain' never gwine
send yo' back to de stable, so het up, yo' cyant eat er drink fo' an
hour. No siree! Not _dem_."
At that moment Dawson and his assistant appeared with the horses the
girls had ridden. Notwithstanding the cool crispness of the morning,
Lady Belle was in a lather where her harness rested. The Senator was
blowing like a grampus; Jack-o'-Lantern's bit was foam-flecked and
Natalie's pretty little "Madam Goldie" looked fagged.
Mrs. Vincent instantly contrasted the condition of Shashai and Star with
the others. Yet Peggy and Polly had been riding like Valkyrie.
As Dawson espied the lady of the manor his face underwent a change which
would have been amusing had it not been entirely too significant. Mrs.
Vincent made no comments whatever concerning the horses but a veil had
certainly fallen from her eyes. She asked Dawson how his young ladies
were coming on with their riding lessons, how many had arranged to ride
in the park that afternoon, and one or two trivial questions. Then she
returned to the house a much wiser woman than she had left it an hour
earlier.