Phillida arrived up to time with her suit-case, a riding-crop and a large
copy of D'AULNOY'S _Fairy Tales_. She was not very communicative as we
drove out, and I sought to draw her. You never, by the way, talk down to
Phillida. Personally, I don't believe in talking down to any child; but to
employ this method with Phillida is to court disaster.
"Pleasant journey?" I inquired casually, flicking Rex's ear.
"'M," responded Phillida in the manner of a child sucking sweets. Phillida
was not sucking sweets, and I accepted my snub. We drove on for a bit in
silence. Phillida removed her hat, and her bobbed hair went all round her
head like a brown busby. I looked round and was embarrassed to find the
straight grey eyes fixed on my face, the expression in them almost
rapturous.
"Jolly country, isn't it?" I essayed hurriedly, with a comprehensive wave
of my whip.
The preoccupied "'M" was repeated with even less emphasis.
Another protracted silence. I decided not to interfere with the course of
nature as manifested in one small grey-eyed maiden of eight. Presently
there burst from her ecstatically, "Uncle Dick, is this the one I'm going
to ride?" So that was it. From that moment we got on splendidly. We
discussed, agreed and disagreed over breeds, paces, sizes. I told her the
horse she would ride would be twice the size of Rex, and she nearly fell
out of the trap when I said we might go together that very afternoon.
"I've not learned to gallop," she remarked with some reluctance; "but of
course you could teach me."
I had only heard the vaguest rumours of her riding experience, and she was
very mysterious about it herself. However, when she came downstairs at the
appointed time, in her brown velvet jockey-cap, top-boots, breeches and
gloves complete, she looked so determined and efficient I felt reassured.
I had to make holes in the stirrup leathers eleven inches higher than the
top one of all before she could touch the irons; but she settled into the
saddle with great firmness and we were off without any fuss. Once on a
horse, she had no difficulty in maintaining a perfect continuity of speech,
and I soon felt relieved of all anxiety about her safety. If she was not an
old and practised hand, she had nerve and balance, and I did not think fit
to produce the leading rein which I had smuggled into my pocket.
We trotted a perfect three miles, and she had an eye to the country and a
word to say about all she saw. When we turned to come back, I felt
Brimstone make his usual spurt forward, but I was not prepared for
Treacle's sudden break away. He was off like a rocket. That small child's
cap was flung across my eyes in a sudden gust. I had retrieved it in a
second, but it was time lost, and, by Jove! she was out of sight round a
bend. I followed after, might and main, but the racket of Brimstone's hoofs
only sent Treacle flying faster. I caught sight of the small figure leaning
back, the bright hair flying. Then they were gone again. My heart beat very
fast. "She had never learned to gallop!" At every bend I hardly dared to
look for what I might find. I knew Treacle, once started, would dash for
home. If the child could only stick it, all might be well. I pounded along,
and after a two-mile run I came on them. She had pulled him in and was
walking him, waiting for me, a little turned in the saddle, one minute hand
resting lightly on his broad back. She was prettily flushed, her hair
blown, but she hadn't even lost her crop.
"Did you stop to get my cap?" she said as we came up. "Thanks awfully."
I wanted to hug the little thing, but her dignity forbade any such
exhibition.
The only other reference to the afternoon's experience was on a postcard I
happened to see written the same night, addressed to her mother.
"DARLING BEE" (it ran in very large baby characters),--"I had the most
adorable ride to-day I ever had. I learned to galup all by myself. I thaut
at first the horse was running away with me, but Uncle Dick soon caut me
up. He had my cap.
Your loving
PHILLIDA."