a warm country for two or three years. The news fell upon the household
like the tolling of a deathbell. Everybody was sorry; but the master
began directly to make arrangements for breaking up his establishment
and leaving England. We used to hear it talked about in our stable;
indeed, nothing else was talked about.

John went about his work silent and sad, and Joe scarcely whistled.
There was a great deal of coming and going; Ginger and I had full work.

The first of the party who went were Miss Jessie and Flora, with their
governess. They came to bid us good-by. They hugged poor Merrylegs
like an old friend, and so indeed he was. Then we heard what had been
arranged for us. Master had sold Ginger and me to his old friend,
the Earl of W----, for he thought we should have a good place there.
Merrylegs he had given to the vicar, who was wanting a pony for Mrs.
Blomefield, but it was on the condition that he should never be sold,
and that when he was past work he should be shot and buried.

Joe was engaged to take care of him and to help in the house, so I
thought that Merrylegs was well off. John had the offer of several good
places, but he said he should wait a little and look round.

The evening before they left the master came into the stable to give
some directions, and to give his horses the last pat. He seemed very
low-spirited; I knew that by his voice. I believe we horses can tell
more by the voice than many men can.

"Have you decided what to do, John?" he said. "I find you have not
accepted either of those offers."