I was led into a comfortable, clean-smelling stall with plenty of dry
straw, and after a capital supper, I lay down, thinking I was going to
be happy.




CHAPTER XII


A LONDON CAB HORSE

My new master's name was Jeremiah Barker, but as every one called him
Jerry, I shall do the same. Polly, his wife, was just as good a match as
a man could have. She was a plump, trim, tidy little woman, with smooth,
dark hair, dark eyes, and a merry little mouth. The boy was nearly
twelve years old, a tall, frank, good-tempered lad; and little Dorothy
(Dolly they called her) was her mother over again, at eight years old.
They were all wonderfully fond of each other; I never knew such a happy,
merry family before or since. Jerry had a cab of his own, and two
horses, which he drove and attended to himself. His other horse was a
tall, white, rather large-boned animal, called Captain. He was old now,
but when he was young he must have been splendid; he had still a proud
way of holding his head and arching his neck; in fact, he was a
high-bred, fine-mannered, noble old horse, every inch of him. He told me
that in his early youth he went to the Crimean War; he belonged to an
officer in the cavalry, and used to lead the regiment.

The next morning, when I was well-groomed, Polly and Dolly came into the