ays, and you almost hope that they will be few. You
know that every other girl in the class will repeat it to other
girls, and even to men, and possibly even to Theodore, and that
you will never be allowed to forget it. Cannot ride or do your
best without a gentleman, indeed! You could do very well without
one gentleman whom you know, you think vengefully, and then you
turn to the kindly Scotch teacher, and, with true feminine
justice, endeavor to punish him for another's misdeeds by telling
him that, if he please, you would prefer to ride alone. As he
reins back, you feel a decided sinking of the heart and again
become conscious that you are oddly incapable of doing anything
properly, and then, suddenly, it flashes upon you that the master
was right in his judgment, and you fly into a small fury of
determination to show him that you can exist "without a
gentleman." Down go your hands, you straighten your shoulders,
adjust yourself to a nicety, think of yourself and of your horse
with all the intensity of which you are capable, and make two or
three rounds without reproof.

"Now," says the teacher, "we will try a rather longer trot than
usual, and when any lady is tired she may go to the centre of the
ring. Prepare to trot! Trot!"

The leader's eyes sparkle with delight as she allows her good
horse, after a round or two, to take his own speed, the teacher
continues his usual fire of truthful comments as to shoulders,
hands and reins, and one after another, the girls leave the
track, and only the leader and you remain, she, calm and cool as
an iceberg, you, flushed, and compelled to correct your position
at almost every stride of your horse, sometimes obliged to sit
close for half a round, but with your whole Yankee soul set upon
trotting until your master bids you cease. Can you believe your
ears?

"Brava, Miss Esmeralda!" shouts the master. "Go in again. That is
the way. Ah, go in again! That is the way the rider is made!
Again! Ah, brava!"

"Prepare to whoa! Whoa!" says the teacher, and both he and your
banished cavalier congratulate you, and it dawns upon you that
the society young lady is not the only person whom the master
understands, and is able to manage. However, you are grateful,
and even pluck up courage to salute him when next you pass him;
but alas! that does not soften his heart so thoroughly that he
does not warningly ejaculate, "Right foot," and then comes poor
Nell's turn. She, reared in a selec