[Illustration]

The next day we were again at the door, and the footmen as before; we
heard the silk dress rustle, and the lady came down the steps, and in an
imperious voice, she said, "York, you must put those horses' heads
higher, they are not fit to be seen."

York got down, and said very respectfully, "I beg your pardon, my lady,
but these horses have not been reined up for three years, and my lord
said it would be safer to bring them to it by degrees; but, if your
ladyship pleases, I can take them up a little more." "Do so," she
said.

York came round to our heads and shortened the rein himself, one hole, I
think. Every little makes a difference, be it for better or worse, and
that day we had a steep hill to go up. Then I began to understand what I
had heard of. Of course, I wanted to put my head forward and take the
carriage up with a will as we had been used to do; but no, I had to pull
with my head up now, and that took all the spirit out of me, and the
strain came on my back and legs. When we came in, Ginger said, "Now you
see what it is like; but this is not bad, and if it does not get much
worse than this I shall say nothing about it, for we are very well
treated here; but if they strain me up tight, why, let 'em look out! I
can't bear it, and I won't."

Day by day, hole by hole, our bearing-reins were shortened, and instead
of looking forward with pleasure to having my harness put on, as I used
to do, I began to dread it. Ginger too seemed restless, thought she said
very little. The worst was yet to come.