could get a situation with
some first-rate colt-breaker and horse-trainer, it would be the right
thing for me. Many young animals are frightened and spoiled by wrong
treatment, which need not be if the right man took them in hand. I
always get on well with horses, and if I could help some of them to a
fair start I should feel as if I was doing some good. What do you think
of it, sir?"

"I don't know a man anywhere," said master, "that I should think so
suitable for it as yourself. You understand horses, and somehow they
understand you, and I think you could not do better."

The last sad day had come; the footman and the heavy luggage had gone
off the day before, and there were only master and mistress, and her
maid. Ginger and I brought the carriage up to the Hall door, for the
last time. The servants brought out cushions and rugs, and when all were
arranged, master came down the steps carrying the mistress in his arms
(I was on the side next the house, and could see all that went on); he
placed her carefully in the carriage, while the house servants stood
round crying.

"Good-bye, again," he said; "we shall not forget any of you," and he got
in. "Drive on, John." Joe jumped up and we trotted slowly through the
park and through the village, where the people were standing at their
doors to have a last look and to say, "God bless them."

When we reached the railway station, I think mistress walked from the
carriage to the waiting-room. I heard her say in her own sweet voice,
"Good-bye, John; God bless you." I felt the rein twitch, but John made
no answer; perhaps he could not speak. As soon as Joe had taken the
things out of the carriage, John called him to stand by the horses,
while he went on the platform. Poor Joe! He stood close up to our heads
to hide his tears. Very soon the train came puffing into the station;
then two or three minutes, and the doors were slammed to; the guard
whistled and the train glided away, leaving behind it only clouds of
white smoke and some very heavy hearts.

When it was quite out of sight, John came back. "We shall never see her
again," he said--"never." He took the reins, mounted the box, and with
Joe drove slowly home; but it was not our home now.

CHAPTER IX

EARLSHALL

The next morning after breakfast, Joe put Merrylegs into the mistress'
low chaise to take him to the vicarage; he came first and said good-bye
to us, and Merrylegs neighed to us from the yard. Then Joh