"My stirrups are too short!" I shouted to the groom.
"Ride oveh heah, suh," he called back.
I tried to do it, but Dr. Bell continued to move in circles. At last,
however, the man managed to catch us by advancing with his hand
extended, as though offering a lump of sugar, at the same time talking
gently to my steed. Then, while my companion held the bit the negro
adjusted the stirrup leathers. I was glad of the breathing spell. I
wished that it took longer to adjust stirrups.
"You'd better go out by the drive this time," said the Efficient Sister.
"I intended to before," I told her, "but he didn't seem to understand
the signals."
"You've got spurs on. Give him the spur."
As a matter of fact, I had hesitated to give him the spur. It seemed to
me that he was annoyed with me anyway, and that the spur would only
serve to increase his prejudice. I wanted to rule him not by brute force
but by kindness. I wished that I could somehow make him know that I was
a regular subscriber to the S.P.C.A., that I loved children and animals
and all helpless creatures, both great and small, that I used the dumb
brutes gently and only asked in return that they do the same by me. But
how is one to communicate such humanitarian ideas to a big, stupid,
wilful, perverse, diabolical creature like a horse?
I was determined that when we started again we should not run over the
lawn if I could possibly prevent it.
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