put my warm cloth on me; he thought I was so hot I should not like
it. Then he gave me a pail full of water to drink; it was cold and very
good, and I drank it all; then he gave me some hay and some corn, and,
thinking he had done right, he went away. Soon I began to shake and
tremble, and turned deadly cold; my legs ached, my loins ached, and my
chest ached, and I felt sore all over. This developed into a strong
inflammation, and I could not draw my breath without pain. John nursed
me night and day. My master, too, often came to see me. "My poor
Beauty," he said one day, "my good horse, you saved your mistress' life,
Beauty; yes, you saved her life." I was very glad to hear that, for it
seems the doctor had said if we had been a little longer it would have
been too late. John told my master he never saw a horse go so fast in
his life. It seems as if the horse knew what was the matter. Of course I
did, though John thought not; at least I knew as much as this--that John
and I must go at the top of our speed, and that it was for the sake of
the mistress.

CHAPTER VIII

THE PARTING

I had lived in this happy place three years, but sad changes were about
to come over us. We heard that our mistress was ill. The doctor was
often at the house, and the master looked grave and anxious. Then we
heard that she must go to a warm country for two or three years. The
news fell upon the household like the tolling of a death-bell. Everybody
was sorry. The master arranged for breaking up his establishment and
leaving England. We used to hear it talked about in our stable; indeed,
nothing else was talked about. John went about his work silent and sad,
and Joe scarcely whistled. There was a great deal of coming and going;
Ginger and I had full work.

The first of the party who went were Miss Jessie and Flora with their
governess. They came to bid us good-bye. They hugged poor Merrylegs
like an old friend, and so indeed he was. Then we heard what had been
arranged for us. Master had sold Ginger and me to an old friend.
Merrylegs he had given to the vicar, who was wanting a pony for Mrs.
Blomefield, but it was on the condition that he should never be sold,
and that when he was past work he should be shot and buried. Joe was
engaged to take care of him and to help in the house, so I thought that
Merrylegs was well off.

[Illustration]

"Have you decided what to do, John?" he said.

"No, sir; I have made up my mind that if I