fierce spirit quenched, with an appealing look in her large black
eyes, which seemed positively human in their capacity for expressing
suffering. It was many hours before a dead foal was born, and there
is no doubt that if she had been out on the bleak hills, the poor
exhausted young mother must have perished from weakness. She
appeared to understand thoroughly the motive of all that was being
done for her, and submitted with patience to all the remedies.
Gradually, but slowly, her strength returned; and, alas, her evil
nature, tamed by anguish, returned also! Day by day she became
shyer of even the hand which had fed and succoured her; and, as this
is a true chronicle, it must be stated that the very first use Mrs.
Star made of her convalescence was, to kick her nurse on the leg,
break her halter into fragments, and gallop off to the hills with a
loud neigh of defiance. Whenever the topic of feminine ingratitude
came on the carpet at that station, this, which Star had done, used
always to be told as an instance in point.

Two years later, exactly the same thing happened again. The dreaded
hour of suffering found the wayward beauty once more under the roof
which had sheltered her in her former time of trial, and once more
she rested her head in penitence and appeal against her owner's
shoulder. Who could bear malice in the presence of such dreadful
pain? Not Star's owner, certainly. Besides the home resources, a
man on horseback was sent off to fetch a famous veterinary who
chanced to be staying at a neighbouring station, and they both
returned before Star's worst sufferings began. All that skill and
experience could do was done that night; but the morning light found
the poor little grey mare dying from exhaustion, with another dead
foal lying by her side. She only lived a few hours later, in spite
of stimulants and the utmost care, and died gently and peacefully,