delight as anybody. She wanted to unharness him, but this I could
not allow. We did not wish to be selfish, but after she had seen
and heard what we thought was enough for her, we were obliged to
send her back to the kitchen for the sake of the dinner.

Then we unharnessed him. I say we, for Euphemia stood by and I
explained everything, for some day, she said, she might want to do
it herself. Then I led him into the stable. How nobly he trod,
and how finely his hoofs sounded on the stable floor!

There was hay in the mow and I had brought a bag of oats under the
seat of the carriage.

"Isn't it just delightful," said Euphemia, "that we haven't any
man? If we had a man he would take the horse at the door, and we
should be deprived of all this. It wouldn't be half like owning a
horse."

In the morning I drove down to the station, Euphemia by my side.
She drove back and Old John came up and attended to the horse.
This he was to do, for the present, for a small stipend. In the
afternoon Euphemia came down after me. How I enjoyed those rides!
Before this I had thought it ever so much more pleasant and
healthful to walk to and from the station than to ride, but then I
did not own a horse. At night I attended to everything, Euphemia
generally following me about the stable with a lantern. When the
days grew longer we would have delightful rides after dinner, and
even now we planned to have early breakfasts, and go to the station
by the longest possible way.