Daisy and Preston had breakfasted already, before the family; and now were off to the hills just as other people were stirring sugar into cups of coffee.
Preston led the way on a fine bay of his uncle's; taking good gallops now and then to ease his own and his horse's spirits, and returning to go quietly for a space by the side of the pony-chaise.

Loupe never went into anything more exciting than his waddling trot; though Daisy made him keep that up briskly.
"What a thing it is, to have such short legs!" said Preston, watching the movements of the pony.
"_You_ go over the road without seeing it," said Daisy.
"I don't want to see it.

What I want to see is Hillsdale." "So do I; but I want to see _everything_." Preston smiled, he could not help it, at the very happy and busy little face and spirit down in the pony chaise.
"What do you see, Daisy, that you have not seen a hundred times before ?" "That makes no difference," said Daisy.

"I have seen _you_ a hundred times before." Preston laughed, set spurs to his horse, and went off for another gallop.
Daisy enjoyed her morning's drive.

The light was clear and the air was fresh; Preston gallopping before and Sana jogging on behind; everything was fine! Then it was quite true that she liked to see everything; those grey eyes of hers were extremely busy.