This manoeuvre on the side of Lynde proved that he possessed qualities
which, if skilfully developed, would have assured him success in the
higher regions of domestic diplomacy. The ability to secure your own way
and impress others with the idea that they are having THEIR own way is
rare among men; among women it is as common as eyebrows.

"I wonder how long she will keep this up," mused Lynde, fixing his eye
speculatively on Mary's pull-back ears. "If it is to be a permanent
arrangement I shall have to reverse the saddle. Certainly, the creature
is a lusus naturae--her head is on the wrong end! Easy on the back," he
added, with a hollow laugh, recalling Deacon Twombly's recommendation.
"I should say she was! I never saw an easier."

Presently Mary ceased her retrograde movement, righted herself of her
own accord, and trotted off with as much submissiveness as could be
demanded of her. Lynde subsequently learned that this propensity to back
was an unaccountable whim which seized Mary at odd intervals and lasted
from five to fifteen minutes. The peculiarity once understood not only
ceased to be an annoyance to him, but became an agreeable break in the
ride. Whenever her mood approached, he turned the mare round and let her
back to her soul's content. He also ascertained that the maximum of
Mary's speed was five miles an hour.

"I didn't want a fast horse, anyway," said Lynde philosophically. "As I
am not going anywhere in particular, I need be in no hurry to get
there."

The most delightful feature of Lynde's plan was that it was not a plan.
He had simply ridden off into the rosy June weather, with no settled
destination, no care for to-morrow, and as independent as a bird of the