I had quite forgotten it, but now I remembered even the pony's name, which was Orson.

And there was a distracted person in a velvet coat, who must have been the artist; and he implored Theobald to keep still, for he would touch up Orson and set him prancing.

It was on the lawn near the yew-hedge, and I was standing by my grandmother, while Theobald on the pony was on the gravel-sweep.

I knew that he made the pony curvet because I liked it; and presently my grandmother discovered that and took me away.
"Sure, the fine days will come back," the old woman assented hopefully, "and there's the bonny boy'll bring them.

Miss Bawn, dear, when is Master Theobald coming home from the wars to marry you?
Weren't you promised from the cradle?
Sure, old as I am, I'll dance at the wedding." To my vexation I felt the colour rush to my face and I was conscious that Captain Cardew was looking at me in a startled way.
I tried to say something to the effect that it was an arrangement which we should probably never desire to carry out, but, forcing myself to look at Captain Cardew, I was silenced by the cold and stern expression of his face.
I saw him go up and examine the portrait, and then turn away.