The gesture seemed charming to Stafford, in its girlish Frenchiness.
"Ah, well," she said, with a pretty air of resignation, as if she were tired of arguing.
Stafford's face lit up, and he laughed--the laugh of the man who wins; but it died away rather suddenly, as she said gravely: "But I do not think we shall meet often.

I do not often go to the other side of the lake: very seldom indeed; and you will not, you say, fish the Heron; so that--Oh, there is the colt loose," she broke off.

"How can it have got out?
I meant to ride it to-day, and Jason, thinking I had changed my mind, must have turned it out." The colt came waltzing joyously along the road, and catching sight of the chestnut, whinnied delightedly, and the chestnut responded with one short whinny of reproof.

Ida rode forward and headed the colt, and Stafford quietly slid along by the hedge and got behind it.
"Take care!" said Ida; "it is very strong.

What are you going to do ?" Stafford did not reply, but stole up to the truant step by step cautiously, and gradually approached near enough to lay his hand on its shoulder; from its shoulder he worked to its neck and wound his arms round it.
Ida laughed.
"Oh, you can't hold it!" she said as the colt plunged.
But Stafford hung on tightly and yet, so to speak, gently, soothing the animal with the "horse language" with which every man who loves them is acquainted.
Ida sat for an instant, looking round with a puzzled frown; then she slipped down, took the bridle off the chestnut and slipped it on the colt, the chestnut, who evidently understood the business, standing stock still.
"Now I'll hold it--it will be quieter with me--if you will please change the saddle." Unthinkingly, Stafford obeyed, and got the saddle on the jigging and dancing youngster.