cket broke out in the
barn--sounds of stamping, kicking, and plunging, mingled with loud
shouts. We ran to the scene of the trouble, and found our "hired man"
rushing breathlessly toward the house. When he was able to speak he
informed us that we had "a devil in there," pointing back to the barn,
and that the new horse's legs were in the air, all four of them at once,
the minute he went near her. We insisted that he must have frightened or
hurt her, but, solemnly and with anxious looks behind, he protested that
he had not. Finally Miss Crowell and I went into the barn, and received
a dignified welcome from the new horse, which seemed pleased by our
visit. Together we harnessed her and, without the least difficulty,
drove her out into the yard. As soon as our man took the reins, however,
she reared, kicked, and smashed our brand-new buggy. We changed the man
and had the buggy repaired, but by the end of the week the animal had
smashed the buggy again. Then, with some natural resentment, we made a
second visit to the man from whom we had bought her, and asked him why
he had sold us such a horse.

He said he had told us the exact truth. The horse WAS sound and she WAS
extremely gentle with women, but--and this point he had seen no reason
to mention, as we had not asked about it--she would not let a man come
near her. He firmly refused to take her back, and we had to make the
best of the bargain. As it was impossible to take care of her ourselves,
I gave some thought to the problem she presented, and finally devised a
plan which worked very well. I hired a neighbor who was a small, slight
man to take care of her, and made him wear his wife's sunbonnet and
waterproof cloak whenever he approached the horse. The picture he
presented in these garments still stands out pleasantly against the
background of my Cape Cod memories. The horse, however, did not share
our appreciation of it. She was suspicious, and for a time she shied
whenever the man and his sunbonnet and cloak appeared; but we stood by
until she grew accustomed to them and him; and as he was both patient
and gentle, she finally allowed him to harness and unharness her. But
no man could drive her, and when I drove to church I was forced to hitch
and unhitch her myself. No one else could do it, though many a gallant
and subsequently resentful man attempted the feat.

On one occasion a man I greatly disliked, and who I had reason to know
disliked me, insisted that he c