The Wide, Wide World

"Perfectly right – except in mounting the horse at all, which I never wished him to do. No one on the place would ride him."

"He carried John beautifully all the day after that though," said Miss Sophia, "and I dare say he might have ridden him to the end of the chapter if you would have let papa give him to him. But he was of no use to anybody else. Howard couldn't manage him – I suppose he was too lazy. Papa was delighted enough that day to have given John anything. And I can tell you Black Prince the Second is spirited enough; I am afraid you won't like him."

"John has a present of a horse too, Ellen," said Alice.

"Has he? – from Mr. Marshman?"

"Yes."

"I am very glad! Oh, what rides we can take now, can't we, Alice? We shan't want to borrow Jenny's pony any more. What kind of a horse is Mr. John's?"

"Black – perfectly black."

"Is he handsome?"

"Very."

"Is his name Black Prince?"

"Yes."

Ellen began to consider the possibility of calling her pony the Brown Princess, or by some similar title – the name of John's two charges seeming the very most striking a horse could be known by.

"Don't forget, Alice," said Mrs. Chauncey, "to tell John to stop for him on his way home. It will give us a chance of seeing him, which is not a common pleasure, in any sense of the term."

They went back to the subject of the name, which Ellen pondered with uneasy visions of John and her poor pony flitting through her head. The little horse was hard to fit, or else Ellen's taste was very hard to suit; a great many names were proposed, none of which were to her mind. Charley, and Cherry, and Brown, and Dash, and Jumper – but she said they had "John" and "Jenny" already in Thirlwall, and she didn't want a "Charley;" "Brown" was not pretty, and she hoped he wouldn't "dash" at anything, nor be a "jumper" when she was on his back. Cherry she mused awhile about, but it wouldn't do.

"Call him Fairy," said Ellen Chauncey; "that's a pretty name. Mamma says she used to have a horse called Fairy. Do, Ellen! call him Fairy."

"No," said Ellen; "he can't have a lady's name – that's the trouble."

"I have it, Ellen!" said Alice; "I have a name for you – call him 'The Brownie.'"

"'The Brownie?'" said Ellen.

"Yes – brownies are male fairies; and brown is his colour; so how will that do?"

It was soon decided that it would do very well. It was simple, descriptive, and not common; Ellen made up her mind that "The Brownie" should be his name. No sooner given, it began to grow dear. Ellen's face quitted its look of anxious gravity and came out into the broadest and fullest satisfaction. She never showed joy boisterously; but there was a light in her eye which brought many a smile into those of her friends as they sat round the tea-table.

After tea it was necessary to go home, much to the sorrow of all parties. Ellen knew, however, it would not do to stay; Miss Fortune was but just got well, and perhaps already thinking herself ill-used. She put on her things.

"Are you going to take your pony home with you?" inquired Miss Sophia.

"Oh no, ma'am, not to-night. I must see about a place for him; and besides, poor fellow, he is tired, I dare say."

"I do believe you would take more care of his legs than of your own," said Miss Sophia.

"But you'll be here to-morrow early, Ellie?"

"Oh, won't I!" exclaimed Ellen, as she sprang to Alice's neck; "as early as I can, at least; I don't know when Aunt Fortune will have done with me."

The way home seemed as nothing. If she was tired she did not know it. The Brownie! the Brownie! – the thought of him carried her as cleverly over the ground as his very back would have done. She came running into the chip-yard.

"Hollo!" cried Mr. Van Brunt, who was standing under the apple-tree cutting a piece of wood for the tongue of the ox-cart, which had been broken, "I'm glad to see you can run. I was afeard you'd hardly be able to stand by this time; but there you come like a young deer!"

"Oh, Mr. Van Brunt," said Ellen, coming close up to him and speaking in an undertone, "you don't know what a present I have had! What do you think Mr. Marshman has sent me from Ventnor?"

"Couldn't guess," said Mr. Van Brunt, resting the end of his pole on the log and chipping at it with his hatchet; "never guessed anything in my life; what is it?"

"He has sent me the most beautiful little horse you ever saw! – for my own – for me to ride; and a new beautiful saddle and bridle; you never saw anything so beautiful, Mr. Van Brunt; he is all brown, with one white forefoot, and I've named him 'The Brownie'; and oh, Mr. Van Brunt! do you think Aunt Fortune will let him come here?"

Mr. Van Brunt chipped away at his pole, and was looking very good-humoured.

"Because you know I couldn't have half the good of him if he had to stay away from me up on the mountain. I shall want to ride him every day. Do you think Aunt Fortune will let him be kept here, Mr. Van Brunt?"

"I guess she will," said Mr. Van Brunt soberly, and his tone said to Ellen, "I will, if she don't."

"Then will you ask her and see about it? – if you please, Mr. Van Brunt. I'd rather you would. And you won't have him put to plough or anything, will you, Mr. Van Brunt? Miss Sophia says it would spoil him."

"I'll plough myself first," said Mr. Van Brunt with his half smile; "there sha'n't be a hair of his coat turned the wrong way. I'll see to him – as if he was a prince."

"Oh thank you, dear Mr. Van Brunt! How good you are. Then I shall not speak about him at all till you do, remember. I am very much obliged to you, Mr. Van Brunt!"

Ellen ran in. She got a chiding for her long stay, but it fell upon ears that could not hear. The Brownie came like a shield between her and all trouble. She smiled at her aunt's hard words as if they had been sugar-plums. And her sleep that night might have been prairie land, for the multitude of horses of all sorts that chased through it.

"Have you heerd the news?" said Mr. Van Brunt, when he had got his second cup of coffee at breakfast next morning.

"No," said Miss Fortune. "What news?"

"There ain't as much news as there used to be when I was young," said the old lady; "seems to me I don't hear nothing nowadays."

"You might if you'd keep your ears open, mother. What news, Mr. Van Brunt?"

"Why, here's Ellen got a splendid little horse sent her a present from some of her great friends – Mr. Marshchalk – "

"Mr. Marshman," said Ellen.

"Mr. Marshman. There ain't the like in the country, as I've heerd tell; and I expect next thing she'll be flying over all the fields and fences like smoke."

There was a meaning silence. Ellen's heart beat.

"What's going to be done with him, do you suppose?" said Miss Fortune. Her look said, "If you think I am coming round you are mistaken."

"Humph!" said Mr. Van Brunt slowly, "I s'pose he'll eat grass in the meadow – and there'll be a place fixed for him in the stables."

"Not in my stables," said the lady shortly.

"No – in mine," said Mr. Van Brunt, half smiling; "and I'll settle with you about it by-and-by – when we square up our accounts."