not so high but
that I could see all that went on through the iron rails that were at
the top.

He gave me some very nice oats, patted me, spoke kindly, and then went
away.

When I had eaten my oats, I looked round. In the stall next to mine
stood a little fat gray pony, with a thick mane and tail, a very pretty
head, and a pert little nose. I put my head up to the iron rails at the
top of my box, and said, "How do you do? What is your name?"

He turned round as far as his halter would allow, held up his head, and
said, "My name is Merrylegs. I am very handsome. I carry the young
ladies on my back, and sometimes I take our mistress out in the low
cart. They think a great deal of me, and so does James. Are you going to
live next door to me in the box?"

I said, "Yes."

"Well, then," he said, "I hope you are good-tempered; I do not like any
one next door who bites." Just then a horse's head looked over from
the stall beyond; the ears were laid back, and the eye looked rather
ill-tempered. This was a tall chestnut mare, with a long handsome neck;
she looked across to me and said, "So it is you have turned me out of my
box; it is a very strange thing for a colt like you to come and turn a
lady out of her own home."

[Illustration]

"I beg your pardon," I said, "I have turned no one out; the man who
brought me put me here, and I had nothing to do with it. I never had
words yet with horse or mare, and it is my wish to live at peace."

"Well," she said, "we shall see; of course, I do not want to have words
with a young thing like you." I said no more. In the afternoon, when
she went out, Merrylegs told me all about it.

"The thing is this," said Merrylegs, "Ginger has a habit of biting and
snapping; that is why they call her Ginger, and when she was in the
box-stall, she used to snap very much. One day she bit James in the arm
and made it bleed, and so Miss Flora and Miss Jessie, who are very fond
of me, were afraid to come into the stable. They used to bring me nice
things to eat, an apple, or a carrot, or a piece of bread, but after
Ginger stood in that box, they dared not come, and I missed them very
much. I hope they will now come again, if you do not bite or snap." I
told him I never bit anything but grass, hay, and corn, and could not
think what pleasure Ginger found it.

"Well, I don't think she does find pleasure," says Merrylegs; "it is
just a bad habit; she says no one was ever kind to her, and why sho