The roan rushed past the little groom, whose top boots seemed to twinkle
as he jumped up behind. They whizzed round the corner from the station
yard, and observing that her mouth was just a little open as though this
had disconcerted her, he said:

"He pulls a bit."

"Yes--but isn't he perfectly sweet?"

"He IS rather decent."

Ah! when SHE came, he would drive her; they would go off alone in the
T-cart, and he would show her all the country round.

He was re-awakened by the words:

"Oh! I know he's going to shy!" At once there was a swerve. The roan was
cantering.

They had passed a pig.

"Doesn't he look lovely now? Ought I to have whipped him when he shied?"

"Rather not."

"Why?"

"Because horses are horses, and pigs are pigs; it's natural for horses
to shy at them."