absolutely free hand.

Jezebel and Co. are driven distracted by the horse-flies. I took Jezebel
into a stream to-day, but she started to sit down! So the flies must
just bite, I fear. Large grey brutes.

Hunt made me laugh so last night. I was looking round the horses with
Edward. They were waiting to be fed with their evening hay. To my
surprise and pleasure, Moonlight suddenly neighed. "Evidently getting
her appetite back," I remarked. "Oh yes, sir," says Hunt; "several
times I've caught her _hollerin'_ for her meals lately!" Isn't that a
lovely expression?

[Sidenote: JEZEBEL IN ONE OF HER MOODS]

Hunt is such a good chap. He thinks nothing of "abroad," but a lot of
the "'osses," as he calls them. I found him what seemed to me a very
nice loft to sleep in when we got here. But no: "I'd rather sleep with
my 'osses, sir, thank you." And he sleeps practically under their noses.
"You see, sir, the mare might get one of her moods on."

He is getting very fond of Jezebel now, and whenever she errs, he
attributes the error to one of her moods.

She tore her nosebag to pieces the other day; whether because she was
hungry and it was empty, or because it amused her, or because she was
being bitten by a fly, I don't know. No one seems to have seen her do
it. "One of her moods," says Hunt; and that's all there is to be said
about the incident.