Peggy Stewart, Navy Girl at Home | Page 8

foster-son while her beloved mistress galloped
away upon Shashai. But that word "Guard" was sacred.
In the course of a few weeks, however, Roy was well able to follow his
half-brother, Shashai, and Tzaritza's freedom was restored. The trio was
rarely separated and to see Peggy in her hammock on the lawn, or on
the piazza, meant to see the colt and Tzaritza also, though Roy was
rapidly outgrowing piazzas and lawns, and Peggy was beginning to be
puzzled as to what was to be done with him when he could no longer
come clattering up the steps and across the piazza after his
foster-mother.
With the summer came word that her father would come home on a
month's leave and August was longed for with an eagerness he could
not have dreamed. Everything must be in perfect order to receive him,
and Peggy flew from house to garden, from garden to stables, from
stables to paddock keyed to a state of excitement which infected every
member of the household. Dr. Llewellyn smiled sympathetically.
Harrison, the housekeeper, stalked after her, doing her best to carry out
her orders, while announcing that: NOW, she guessed, there would be
some hope of making Mr. Neil see the folly of letting a girl of Peggy's
age run wild as a hawk forever and a day. She'd have one talk with him
he'd do well to take heed to or she'd know why. Mammy Lucy said
little but watched her young mistress' radiant face. It was eight months

since Master Neil had been home and deep in her tender old heart she
understood better than any one else what his coming meant to Peggy.
Harrison might have a better idea of what was wise and best for her
young charge, but Mammy's love taught her many things which
Harrison could never learn.
Meanwhile Peggy spent the greater part of her days down at the
paddock, for Shashai must be broken to saddle and bridle in order to
receive his master in proper style. A blanket and halter might answer
for the mad gallops across country which they had hitherto taken, but
Daddy Neil was coming home for a month and the horses must do the
place credit.
With this end in view, Peggy betook herself to the paddock one
morning before breakfast, saddle and bridle borne behind her by Bud.
Shashai welcomed her with his clear nicker, sweeping up to the gate in
his long, rocking stride so like the Empress'. Tzaritza with her
foster-son followed in Peggy's wake, Tzaritza sniffing inquiringly at the
saddle, Roy pranking thither and yonder, rich just in the joy of being
alive. Shashai had never quite overcome his jealousy of his young
half-brother, and now laid back his ears in reproof of his unseemly
gambols; Shashai's own babyhood was not far enough in the
background for him to be tolerant.
Peggy entered the paddock and Shashai at once nozzled her for his
morning lumps of sugar. For the first time in his memory they were not
forthcoming, and his great eyes looked their wondering reproach.
"Not yet, Shashai. "We must keep them for a reward if you behave
well." She slipped an arm over the beautifully arched neck and laid her
face against the satiny smoothness. Shashai approved the caress but
would have approved the sugar much more.
"Give me the saddle, Bud."
The little negro boy handed her the light racing saddle; a very
featherweight of a saddle.

"Steady, Shashai."
The colt stood like a statue expecting the girl as usual to spring upon
his back. Instead she placed upon it a stiff, leather affair which puzzled
him not a little, and from which dangled two curious contrivances.
These, however, she quickly caught up and fastened over the back and
their metallic clicking ceased to annoy him. The buckling was a little
strenuous. Hitherto a surcingle had served to hold the blanket upon his
back, but this contraption had TWO surcingles and a stiff leather strap
to boot, which Peggy's strong hands pulled tighter than any straps had
ever before been pulled around him. He quivered slightly but stood the
test and--a lump of sugar was held beneath his eager nostrils, If THAT
followed it was worth while standing to have that ugly, stiff thing
adjusted.
"Now the headstall, Bud. Did you coat the bit with the melted sugar as I
told you?"
"Yes'm, missie. It's fair cracklin' wid sugar, an' onct he gits a lick ob dat
bit he ain' never gwine let go, yo' hyar me."
"Now, my bonny one, we'll see," said Peggy, as she unstrapped the bit,
and the headstall without it was no more than the halter to which
Shashai had been accustomed. Then very gently she held the bit toward
him. He tried