In perfect amazement Madam Conway looked out when first Gritty, as the
pony was called, was led up to the door, prancing, pawing, chafing at
the bit, and impatient to be off. "Margaret shall never mount that
animal," she said; but Margaret had ruled for sixteen years, and now,
at a sign from John, she sprang gayly upon the back of the fiery
steed, who, feeling instinctively that the rider he carried was a
stranger to fear, became under her training perfectly gentle, obeying
her slightest command, and following her ere long like a sagacious
dog. Not thus easily could Madam Conway manage Maggie, and with a
groan she saw her each day fly over the garden gate and out into the
woods, which she scoured in all directions.

"She'll break her neck, I know," the disturbed old lady would say, as
Maggie's flowing skirt and waving plumes disappeared in the shadow of
the trees. "She'll break her neck some day;" and thinking someone must
be in fault, her eyes would turn reprovingly upon Mrs. Jeffrey for
having failed in subduing Maggie, whom the old governess pronounced
the "veriest madcap" in the world. "There is nothing like her in all
England," she said; "and her low-bred ways must be the result of her
having been born on American soil."

If Maggie was to be censured, Madam Conway chose to do it herself; and
on such occasions she would answer: "'Low-bred,' Mrs. Jeffrey, is not
a proper term to apply to Margaret. She's a little wild, I admit, but
no one with my blood in their veins can be low-bred;" and, in her
indignation at the governess, Madam would usually forget to reprove
her granddaughter when she came back from her ride, her cheeks flushed
and her eyes shining like stars with the healthful exercise. Throwing
herself upon a stool at her grandmother's feet, Maggie would lay her