"Lord, I wouldn't tech a gal that could git the upperhand of a horse
like that roan mare with a ten-foot pole," half soliloquized the man
at work over the bay. "Wouldn't have her if she owned half the
township, an' went down on her knees to me--darned if I would. Don't
want no woman that kin make horse-flesh like that knuckle under.
Guess a man wouldn't have much show; hev to take his porridge 'bout
the way she wanted to make it. Whoa, there! stan' still, can't ye?
Darned if I want nothin' to do with sech woman folks or sech horses
as ye be."

Dexter Beers moved laboriously out to the stable door and peered
after Madelon, but she had disappeared in Parson Fair's yard. The
white horse had gone up the road at a brisk trot, but she had easily
kept pace with him. She also harnessed him into the sleigh with no
difficulty. The animal seemed docile, and as if he were to belie his
hard reputation. There was, however, a proud and nervous cant to his
old white head, and he set his jaw stiffly against his bit.

Dorothy came out in her quilted silk pelisse and her blue hood edged
with swan's-down, and got into the sleigh. The black woman was
keeping watch at the parson's study door the while, but he never
swerved from his hard application of the doctrines. The sleigh
slipped noiselessly out of the yard and up the road, for Madelon had
not put on the bells. The old white went rather stiffly and steadily
for the first quarter-mile; then he made a leap forward with a great
lift of his lean white flanks, and they flew.

Dorothy gave a terrified gasp. "Don't be frightened," Madelon said.
"It's the horse that used to beat everything in the county. He's old
now, but when he gets warmed up he's the fastest horse around for a