Six Ponies

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Six Ponies Page 5

by Josephine Pullein-Thompson


  The walk to Folly Court seemed very short. They spent it imitating the other Pony Club members and inventing the things they would say when their ponies were naughty. Evelyn was June Cresswell when she had been bucked off into a puddle; she complained bitterly that she had been made to look a fool, and told Hilary to send for Dr. Radcliffe, as she had swallowed a mouthful of muddy water. Hilary replied that she would never be able to bear the shame of Evelyn looking so scruffy, though she granted her that it wasn’t every girl who could find a puddle to fall into. Margaret was alternately Noel, when she said in a squeaky voice, “Oh, dear! Whatever shall I do? I’m sure I shall never be able to catch her.” And Susan when she whined, “Daddy, Daddy, the horrid pony’s bucked me off. I must have another groom to exercise her.” Roger imitated Richard Morrisson. He told his sisters that they were only girls and couldn’t do anything. James’ thoughts were far away. His secret ambition was to be an explorer, and in his imagination he stood at the helm of his good ship Dauntless and steered her through the coral reefs with unerring judgment.

  Jill was very pleased when Richard asked if she would ride over to Folly Court with him and then lead Wendy home off Peter while he walked with the youngster. Generally he wouldn’t let her ride Peter, saying she would spoil his mouth or let him have his own way, and it was very flattering to be thought capable of leading one pony off another when you were “only a girl.”

  Mrs. Morrisson annoyed them both by telling Richard that he wasn’t to let Jill be kicked by the unbroken ponies or bolted with by Peter. Jill replied that she could look after herself and Richard said rather rudely that it would be Jill’s own fault if she was kicked, and, if his mother was afraid of Peter bolting, she had better buy Jill a fairy cycle.

  Mrs. Morrisson said Richard had been quite impossible since he went to a boarding-school, and Richard said whose fault was that—he hadn’t wanted to go to a beastly boarding-school. Then Mrs. Morrisson said he was thoroughly impertinent, and she would speak to his father about him, and Richard said he didn’t care if she did, and flounced out of the room, slamming the door.

  However, by the time they had groomed and saddled their ponies Richard had quite recovered his temper, and they rode to Folly Court in the best of spirits, imagining all sorts of triumphs for his youngster. They arrived to find John, Noel and Susan gazing across the fields at the ponies. They all admired and discussed them for a few minutes, and then John said he thought they ought to go up to the house in case everyone else had arrived.

  They found the Radcliffes talking to the Major, who, after everyone had said, “Hallo” asked if they would like to see round the stable while they were waiting for June. Everyone said, “Yes, please,” except Noel, who was casting anxious glances at the rose garden, and he led the way into the stable yard and introduced them to Nothing Venture, Gay Crusader, Harmony, two thoroughbred youngsters called The Merry Widow and Black Magic—and an Arab mare called Southwind. Then he showed them the saddle-room, and the clean, shining tack put a good many members to shame when they thought of the state of theirs. They were in one of the big shady paddocks looking at the broodmares and their foals when they heard the sound of a car, and on going back to the stable yard they found that Mrs. Cresswell and June had arrived, complete with trailer. Mrs. Cresswell apologised for being late, and the Major said that it was quite all right, and led the way across the fields towards the Home Farm. Mrs. Cresswell kept up an unending stream of conversation about June, to whom, she said, the breaking would be a wonderful experience, for, though she hadn’t much more to learn about riding, she had never done anything with young horses, not that she thought it would come amiss to her, as she had always schooled Wonder and kept her up to the mark. Mrs. Cresswell said all this and a good deal more, in what, she thought, was an undertone, but which could be heard quite plainly by the members following behind, all of whom—except June, whose look of superiority never changed—felt inclined to giggle. Major Holbrooke replied with absent-minded um’s and ah’s, which Mrs. Cresswell took to be agreement; but Noel wondered what he really thought, and she felt rather sorry for June, for she knew how embarrassed she would feel if her mother said she hadn’t much more to learn about riding, however good she might be.

  The sight of the ponies stopped Mrs. Cresswell’s flow of words. Hearing the Major’s call, they all hurried across the field and began to look in people’s pockets in the most friendly manner. They were all about the same size—between twelve-two and thirteen-two—and four of them were mares, and two, the chestnut and one of the bays, were geldings.

  “Oh, aren’t they lovely?” said Susan.

  “I want the black one,” said John.

  “We must have the skewbald,” said Margaret Radcliffe.

  “No, no, the grey,” said Evelyn.

  Mrs. Cresswell turned to June and said, in an undertone, “I do hope you don’t get the skewbald—she’s too ‘circusy’ for words.”

  “I’m going to give you five minutes to make up your minds,” said the Major; “and then, if more than one person wants any pony, they’ll have to draw lots.” And he sat on the gate and admired the beauties of nature while they decided.

  “Oh, we must have the skewbald,” said Margaret.

  “For goodness’ sake shut up,” said Evelyn. “It’s not you who’s having a pony, and anyway, I want the grey.”

  “ ‘A good horse is never a bad colour!’ ” quoted Hilary, “but personally I rather like the chestnut.”

  “Yes, he’s awfully nice,” agreed Roger, “such a glorious golden chestnut, and I like his star.”

  “I like the black,” said James. “You could be a highwayman on her.”

  “Ugh,” said Evelyn. “I hate blacks! It’s such a gloomy colour and it reminds me of funerals. Anyway, you can be a highwayman on a grey. What about Katerfelto?”

  “A black’s better, though,” said James, “because you can’t be seen at night.”

  “Well, I don’t want to be a highwayman,” said Evelyn, “and I don’t want the black. I’m going to have the grey.”

  “If no one else wants her,” said Roger.

  “Mummy,” said June, “don’t you think the grey has the best hocks?”

  “Don’t talk so loud,” whispered Mrs. Cresswell, “or all the others will want her too.”

  “I don’t know which I want,” said Susan. “They’re all so lovely. Which do you think, Noel?”

  “I’ve no eye for a horse,” said Noel drearily. She was feeling very envious. “But I don’t think colour matters much, and you can’t tell what their characters are like until you’ve known them some time. I should just let fate take its course.”

  “Have you decided which you want, Richard?” asked John.

  “The grey, I think,” said Richard. “But I don’t really mind; they’re all so wizard. Have you settled on the black?”

  “Yes, I like her the best,” said John.

  “What will you call the grey if you have her?” asked Jill.

  “Well, I haven’t got her yet,” said Richard, “but I shall have to think up a really super name. The Major’s horses have all got pretty good ones, though some of them are rather a mouthful.”

  Then the Major, tired of the beauties of nature, and feeling rather cold, got off the gate and said time was up, and who wanted which?

  “The grey,” shouted June, Richard and Evelyn all at once; while John said, “The black”; and Hilary, “The chestnut.”

  “Oh, heavens,” said Major Holbrooke, “one at a time, please—you nearly deafened me. Now who wants the grey—and please don’t shout.”

  “Me,” said June, Evelyn and Richard more quietly.

  “Well, you’ll have to draw lots, then,” said the Major. “But first of all, what about you other people?”

  “Can I have the black?” asked John. As no one else wanted her, he was settled. Hilary asked for and was given the chestnut, and then, as Susan still hadn’t decided which pony she wanted, the Major made t
hree lots, and June drew the longest, so, to Evelyn’s intense disgust, she chose the grey. Then Susan, Richard and Evelyn drew for the three remaining ponies. Richard, who got the longest lot, had the bay gelding, which was the tallest pony; Susan, who got the middling lot, had the bay mare; while Evelyn, who had the shortest lot, had the smallest pony, which was the skewbald. She was very cross, but Margaret was delighted, and whispered to James that they would be able to have a circus.

  “Thank goodness, that’s settled,” said the Major. “I only hope everyone knows which pony they’ve got, for I certainly don’t. And now,” he went on, “if you will all come back to the stables, I want to show you a few things about lungeing on one of my youngsters.”

  As they walked back across the fields, Major Holbrooke explained about lungeing. He said he expected they had all seen it done, but, for the benefit of any one who hadn’t, it was simply making a horse walk, trot and canter on a long webbing rein fixed to his head-collar and held by the trainer who, by standing more or less in the same place, causes the horse to go round in a continuous circle. Lungeing was, he said, an excellent thing for the young horse, as it balanced and suppled him, thus improving his head-carriage and making him stride out properly, besides teaching him the words of command, which were so important when you first started to ride him.

  When they reached the stables they found that Blake had The Merry Widow ready in a head-collar and lunge-rein. The Major led her out to a small paddock on the west side of the house and started to lunge her, first of all at the walk. He pointed out the way in which he held the rein and whip, and said that of course they mustn’t expect their ponies to go as well at first, as The Widow had been broken in six weeks and knew all about it. When he had lunged The Merry Widow at the walk, trot and canter to either hand, Major Holbrooke asked if any one would like a try. “Me,” said everyone but Noel, who was keeping well out of sight.

  The Major handed the lunge-rein and whip to Evelyn, who had spoken most loudly. While she had been watching, Evelyn had thought lungeing looked easy, and as she knew she was a very capable person, she had expected to be able to do it straight away, but, to her chagrin, The Merry Widow, who had behaved perfectly with the Major, refused to walk round at all. After she had tried for a few minutes, with very little success, Major Holbrooke pointed out that she was standing absolutely still in the centre and expecting the horse to walk round her, while she should move round with the horse, though on a very much smaller circle and slightly behind her, with the whip out, ready to send her on if she should try to stop or turn, in exactly the same way as one used one’s legs when riding.

  When Evelyn got the idea of this she managed the Widow much better, and when she had made her walk and trot round to either hand several times, the Major said it was someone else’s turn, and Richard took the rein. He was quite good, but he would show off and try to crack the whip. Susan, who had the next turn, tangled the lunge-rein round her legs and was nearly pulled over; but apart from this she controlled The Merry Widow well, as did Hilary. When Hilary had had her turn, the Major said The Widow had done enough, and he sent John for Black Magic. She was more difficult to lunge, for not only had she a more excitable temperament, but she had barely been broken in a month. In spite of this, both John and June managed her well. Then, since she didn’t come forward, Major Holbrooke asked Noel if she didn’t want a turn.

  “Oh, I should love one,” said Noel, “but I’m not having a pony.”

  “That doesn’t make any difference,” said the Major. “Come on.”

  So Noel gave Beauty, whom she had been holding, to Susan, murmuring, “I’m sure to do something silly—I’ll probably let her go.”

  “What’s that?” asked the Major.

  Noel blushed and said, “I was only saying that I’d probably let her go.”

  “You are a Uriah Heep, aren’t you?” said the Major, handing her the lunge-rein. Noel felt even more embarrassed. She went scarlet in the face and dropped the whip. Oh, goodness, she thought miserably, why ever did I come?

  “What does Uriah Heep mean?” asked Susan of no one in particular.

  “Susan!” said Evelyn in shocked tones.

  “Gosh!” said John.

  “Do you mean to say you don’t read Dickens?” asked Richard in an incredulous voice.

  “Oh, it comes from Dickens, does it?” said Susan quite unabashed. “I’ve never read any of his books—they look awfully dull.”

  “Don’t I know it,” said John. “I’ve just read Great Expectations for my holiday task.”

  “Do you mean to say you don’t like Dickens?” asked Richard.

  “I do,” said John. “I think Oliver Twist and David Copperfield are the best, but I’d rather read something by Robert Louis Stevenson or the Scarlet Pimpernel books any day.”

  “But you can’t dislike Dickens,” said Richard. “I mean he’s famous—everyone likes him.”

  “Of course he can dislike him if he wants to,” said Roger. “What’s the point in pretending to like an author just because he’s famous or other people like him? The other people may be wrong.”

  “The Scarlet Pimpernel books are only suitable for people of ten,” said Richard scornfully.

  “Well, how old are you?” asked Roger in a pointed manner.

  “I don’t agree with you, Richard,” said the Major, joining in. “Certainly they are not well written when compared with Dickens, but they have a spirit of adventure which can be appreciated by a greater mental age than ten, especially in these dull and rather colourless times, and I must confess I find them more exciting and no more ridiculous than the average present-day detective story; though this does not prevent me from enjoying Aristotle in another mood. After all, champagne and caviare at the Ritz do not take the pleasure from bread and cheese and beer at a country inn.”

  “But all the same,” said Richard rather sulkily, “I can’t understand any one not liking Dickens.”

  “I think that, to most people, the classics are an acquired taste,” said Major Holbrooke. “That’s why they make you read them at school. John will probably enjoy Dickens when he’s older, though I must admit I find a lot of his work infernally dull, while you have already acquired the taste. I expect you read him originally to please your parents, who probably thought it very clever, while John’s thought cricket more important.”

  “That’s right,” said John. “Dad often says he doesn’t want me to become a learned guy with long hair and a fancy tie. He says it’s the games that count.”

  “I’m afraid I don’t altogether agree with him,” said Major Holbrooke; and then to Noel, who, finding no one was paying the least attention to her, had ceased to worry, and had therefore managed Black Magic quite easily, he said:

  “It wasn’t so dreadfully difficult after all, was it?”

  “No,” said Noel, dropping the whip and tangling the lunge-rein round her legs. “It was lovely—she’s awfully good.”

  “You had better have a turn now, Roger,” said the Major. And then, when Roger had finished, he told James and Margaret Radcliffe, to their annoyance, that they were too small, and, taking the rein, he showed the way to teach a horse to jump, beginning with a pole on the ground and working up to two feet six—the highest Black Magic had learned to jump so far.

  Just at the end of the jumping, Mrs. Holbrooke, who had been good naturedly keeping Mrs. Cresswell out of the Major’s way by showing her round the immense aviary in which she, Mrs. Holbrooke, kept her collection of exotic birds, came into the paddock to point out to the Major that it was already half-past twelve, and that most families lunched at one.

  “Oh, heavens,” said Major Holbrooke guiltily, “why on earth didn’t someone tell me before? Now I shall have hundreds of irate parents after my blood. Come on, all of you; we’d better catch those ponies. Have you got your halters?”

  “Oh, dear!” said Susan. “Noel, we’ve come without one.”

  “If you were relying on Noel, I’m not surp
rised,” said the Major with a laugh. “Didn’t you know she’s anti-gardens?”

  Noel felt fearfully embarrassed and again wished she hadn’t come, but Susan only laughed and said she hadn’t far to go home for one. However, the Major said of course he would lend her a halter, and he sent Noel to fetch one, for she knew where they were kept, and he asked Roger to put Black Magic away, as Blake would have gone to lunch. Noel helped Roger to settle Black Magic, and then they ran across the fields, to find that the others had already caught the ponies. They put the halter on Susan’s bay, and then, when everyone had thanked the Major, who said that any one who got into difficulties was to ring him up and that he would arrange another rally before the end of the holidays, and Mrs. Holbrooke, who promised to ring up and reassure Mrs. Manners and Mrs. Morrisson, the only mothers who were likely to worry about their children being late, Noel, Margaret and James mounted and, followed by the six led ponies, they set off for home. When they came to the drive, the Radcliffes took the back way, which led to the Hogshill road, while everyone else, except June, went down the main drive to the Basset-Brampton road. There John had a little difficulty in persuading his black mare to go alone to Lower Basset while all her friends were led off in the opposite direction, but he got her along in the end, though she neighed hopefully long after the others were out of sight.

 

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