Peggy Stewart, Navy Girl at Home | Page 9

of candy, and while he was enjoying its sweetness Peggy brought forth lump number two. Four was his daily allowance, and as he enjoyed number two she let down the stirrups which had seemed likely to startle him.
"Stand outside, Bud, he may be a little frightened when the saddle creaks." The boy left the paddock.
"Stand, Shashai," commanded Peggy, resting her hand upon the colt's withers. He knew perfectly well what to expect, but why that strange groaning and creaking? The blanket had never done so. The sensitive nerves quivered and he sprang forward, but Peggy had caught her stirrups and her low voice quieted him as she swayed and adapted herself to his gait. Around and around the paddock they loped in perfect harmony of motion. She did not draw upon the bridle rein, merely holding it as she had been accustomed to hold her halter strap, guiding by her knees. Shashai tossed his head partly in nervous irritation at the creaking saddle, partly in the joy of motion, and joy won the day. Then Peggy began to draw slightly upon her reins. The colt shook his head impatiently as though asking: "Wherefor the need? I know exactly where you wish to go."
"Oh, my bonny one, my bonny one, that is just it! I know that you know, but someday someone else won't know, and if I don't teach you now just what the bit means the poor mouth may pay the penalty. It may anyway, in spite of all I can do, but I'll do my best to make it an easy lesson. Oh why, why will people pull and tug as they do on a horse's mouth when there is nothing in this world so sensitive, or that should be so lightly handled. So be patient, Shashai. We only use it because we must, dear. Now, right, turn!" And with the words she pressed her right knee against the colt, at the same time drawing gently upon the right rein. Shashai turned because he had always done so at the words and the pressure, accepting the bit's superfluous hint like the gentleman he was.
"Open the gate, Bud. We'll go for a spin," ordered Peggy as she swung around the paddock.
"Won't yo' jump, missie?" asked Bud eagerly. The delight of his life was to see his young mistress take a fence.
"Not this time," answered Peggy over her shoulder. Bud opened the gate as they came around again and as Peggy cried: "Four bells, Shashai," the colt sprang through, Tzaritza and Roy joining in with a happy bark and neigh.
All so simply, so easily done by love's gentle rule.
CHAPTER III
"DADDY NEIL"
"Stand there, little girl. Why, why--how has it come about! When did you do it? I went away nine months ago leaving a little girl in Mammy Lucy's and Harrison's charge and I have returned to find a young lady. Peggy, baby, what have you done with my little girl?"
Commander Stewart stood in the big living-room of Severndale, his hand upon Peggy's shoulder as he held her at arm's length to look at her in puzzled surprise. He had just experienced one of those startling revelations which often arouse parents to the fact that their children have stolen a march upon them, and sprung into very pleasing young men or women while they themselves have been in an unobserving somnolent state. It is invariably a shock and one which few parents escape.
Peggy laughed, colored a rosy pink but obeyed, a little thrill of innocent triumph passing over her, for Daddy Neil's eyes held something more than surprise, and Peggy's feminine soul detected the underlying pride and admiration.
"By the great god Neptune, you've taken a rise out of me this time, child. How old ARE you, anyway!"
"As though you didn't know perfectly well, you tease," laughed Peggy, turning swiftly and nestling in his arms. The arms held her closely and the sun-tanned cheek rested upon her dark, silky hair. The eyes were singularly soft and held a suggestion of moisture. It did not seem so very long ago to Daddy Neil since Peggy's beautiful mother had been in that very room with him nestling in his arms in that same confiding little manner. How like her Peggy had grown in looks and a thousand little mannerisms. From the moment Peggy had met him at the Round Bay station to this one, he had lived in a sort of waking dream, partly in the past, partly in the present, and in the strangest possible mental confusion. His memory picture of Peggy as he had left her in October of the previous year was of the little hoyden in short skirts, laughing and prancing from morning till night, and leading Mammy Lucy a life of it.
In nine months the little romp had blossomed