Six Ponies (4 page)

The Morrissons were made to go right away from the ponies and sit on a rug by the car to eat their lunch, which consisted mainly of Rivita and lettuce; while Noel and Susan, neither of whose parents had come, ate theirs together, and found they had many dislikes in common, the chief being June Cresswell and geometry. John Manners ate his cheese sandwiches in silence. Major Holbrooke’s views on the backward seat still rankled in his mind, and he did wish that Mrs. Morrisson, whom he couldn’t bear, would go away, so that he could ask Richard, who he had decided wasn’t “half such a bad chap” after all, his opinion on the best seat over jumps.

Mrs. Cresswell and June ate egg sandwiches and a great many chocolate biscuits. Between the mouthfuls, they pulled everybody’s riding to pieces, until there was only June left to admire.

Noel was in the middle of telling Susan what sort of a pony she would buy if she had had a rich uncle who had died and left her a hundred pounds, when their attention was attracted by a view-holler from the Radcliffes, and Noel saw, to her horror, that Topsy had slipped out of her stirrup leathers and was grazing at the far end of the field.

“Oh, dear,” she said, “I’m sure I shall never catch her.”

“Well, there are plenty of people to help, that’s one good thing,” said Susan, “and I’ve got an apple.”

Together they advanced on Topsy, Noel holding the apple out invitingly, with the stirrup leather concealed behind her back; but Topsy was enjoying the grass far too much to care about apples, and she merely rolled her small, mean eyes, swished her tail, and walked away. Noel and Susan followed her. This went on for some time, and then Topsy got fed up. With a squeal, she swung round her heels and lashed out at them. They both retreated hastily.

“Oh, she is beastly,” said Noel. “I know we shall never catch her.”

“I’m glad Beauty isn’t like that,” said Susan, and they stood looking despondently at Topsy, who tore huge mouthfuls of grass in a triumphant manner. The Radcliffes—who prided themselves on being able to catch anything—soon decided that Noel and Susan were being “jolly feeble,” so they all came across the field to suggest driving Topsy into a corner. Noel, glad of any ideas, agreed, and Roger and Evelyn arranged everyone in a large half-moon; then they all advanced on her. Eyeing them warily, she walked a few steps towards the corner of the field; then suddenly she whirled round. She was intimidated by the waving arms and hair-raising yells of the Radcliffes, but she dodged between Noel and Susan, leaving them both rooted to the spot.

“Oh, you are feeble!” shrieked Evelyn. “Why on earth didn’t you head her off?”

“Sorry,” shouted Noel, as Topsy, headed by John Manners, came galloping back.

“Look out, Roger; she’s coming your way!” shrieked Evelyn. But Topsy dodged Roger and doubled back up the field, to be turned by three of Mrs. Maxton’s pupils, who were Pony Club members—Cynthia Burke and Pat and Charles French. They chased her down the field again, and then several more people joined in, among them Antony Rate on Topper. They all chased Topsy in different directions, waving their arms and giving view-hollers. She grew more and more excited, and finally she dodged everyone, galloped through the gate—which no one had thought of shutting—and thundered up the drive towards the house. Noel was rooted to the spot again, but the Radcliffes raced after her, taking a shortcut across the corner of the park. Noel collected her scattered wits and tore after them, arriving in the garden several lengths behind, but in time to see Topsy career across the smooth green lawn, smash through the herbaceous border, and disappear round the corner of the house.

Major Holbrooke was in the stable yard seeing if Harmony was ready for her demonstration. Hearing the sound
of galloping hoofs and the shrieks of the Radcliffes, he hurried into the garden, followed by Blake, to see Topsy tearing across the rose garden pursued by a pack of shrieking children, led by Evelyn Radcliffe. The Major took one look and then, in his best hunting-field voice he bellowed, “Stop chasing that pony!” The result was instantaneous. Everyone stopped in their stride, except Topsy, who disappeared down the path which led to the kitchen garden. The Major took a glance at the rose garden and asked angrily, “What the dickens do you think you’re doing?”

“Trying to catch Topsy,” said Evelyn in a voice which meant, surely any fool can see.

“Well, that’s not the way to catch a pony,” said Major Holbrooke. “Don’t you know yet that you must never chase them? I can’t see much point in my trying to teach you which leg to canter on if you can’t even catch your ponies.” Everyone looked very sheepish except Evelyn, who could never believe she was in the wrong. She said, “Topsy’s not my pony—we can always catch ours; and anyway, we tried to corner her first.”

“Well, it doesn’t make the slightest difference whose pony she is,” said Major Holbrooke sternly. “There is no excuse for chasing her about whatsoever. Who does she belong to, anyway?”

“Me,” said Noel miserably, stepping out from behind the ranks of Radcliffes.

“Why the dickens can’t you tie your pony up properly?” asked the Major.

“I’m awfully sorry,” said Noel, wishing the earth would open and swallow her, “but I forgot to bring a halter, so I had to tie her up with stirrup leathers.”

“If you’d asked me I could easily have lent you one,” he said, and then, “Well, you’d better come and help me catch her, but everyone else can go back to the paddock.” And he led the way into the stable yard. While the Major collected a scoop of oats and a halter, Noel gazed about her. There were twelve lovely loose-boxes, built of mellow red brick on three sides of a square, and over the green doors looked
the wise head of Nothing Venture, the alert one of Gay Crusader, Harmony’s exquisite little grey one, and the inquisitive ones of the two youngsters which Major Holbrooke was breaking. The rest of the horses were still out at grass, for it was only the beginning of September. They were exactly the stables Noel had always dreamed of, and she stood spellbound until the Major said, “Come on, let’s go and catch your wretched pony before she does any more damage.”

“I’m awfully sorry about the garden,” said Noel, brought back to reality with a jolt.

“Oh, that’s all right,” said the Major, “but I shall expect you to come and tidy up the mess if the gardeners give notice—ah, there she is!” as they turned a corner and saw two men, evidently gardeners, chasing Topsy off a cabbage bed. “Don’t chase her,” he shouted to the men. “I want to catch her,” and he approached Topsy quietly, holding out the oats and talking to her all the time. She stood like a statue, a cabbage leaf hanging out of one side of her mouth, and let the Major go right up to her. The oats did the rest—she greedily buried her muzzle in the scoop while he slipped the halter round her neck.

“Hurray!” said Noel, though at heart she felt rather annoyed that the Major should catch Topsy so easily when she hadn’t been able to get near her. “Thanks awfully.”

“That’s all right,” said Major Holbrooke, and, handing Noel the halter rope, “here, you take her. I must get Harmony, or those people will be getting restive. Do you know your way back?”

“I think so,” said Noel, and she led Topsy up the path, past the wrecked rose garden and the trampled herbaceous border, to the paddock, where she was met by Susan, who inquired anxiously:

“Was he very cross?”

“No, he was quite agreeable after you’d gone,” said Noel, “but, of course, he hasn’t seen the herbaceous border or the lawn yet.”

“You managed to catch her, then,” said Hilary.

“Yes,” said Noel. “Major Holbrooke caught her quite easily with some oats.”

“I bet you got a blowing up,” said John.

“No, not at all,” said Noel. “He was quite agreeable.”

“Whew!” said John. “He wasn’t very agreeable when I was there.”

“I know; I thought we were going to be chucked out,” said Charles French. “He is a disagreeable old thing.”

“Well, you wouldn’t like it if your garden was spoilt,” said Mary Compton.

“I wouldn’t care,” said Charles. “Our garden’s much too tidy, and no good even for playing hide-and-seek in.”

“I should have thought that any one who really loved horses would like hoof-marks on their lawn,” said Evelyn.

“Not if they liked gardens too,” said Susan.

“Well, she didn’t do much damage,” said Evelyn. “She only squashed a few dull old flowers.”

“No, not much,” said Richard sarcastically; “merely cut the lawn to ribbons, smashed the flowerbeds to smithereens, and ate all the cabbages.”

“Well, it wasn’t our fault,” said Evelyn. “We were trying to catch the beastly pony—he ought to have been grateful.”

“You made everything worse by arguing with him,” said Roger to Evelyn. “I don’t know what you wanted to be so jolly tactless for.”

“I’d rather be tactless than feeble like you,” said Evelyn; “standing there with your mouths open and leaving me to do all the talking.”

“Shut up!” said Hilary. “Here he comes.”

Everyone turned as Major Holbrooke rode into the paddock on Harmony, and almost everyone said, “Isn’t she lovely?” She certainly was beautiful: her perfect proportions, her generous eye, noble head, and grey satin coat. The proud carriage of her Arab sire, allied with the lithe gracefulness of the thoroughbred, combined to make her almost unreal in her loveliness.

“I’m just going to ride round a few times to loosen her
up,” said the Major, “and then we’ll try to show you a few things,” and he trotted off round the field.

“Gosh! Golden Wonder isn’t a patch on her, is she?” said John to Richard.

“Gosh, no,” said Richard. “She’s wizard!”

Mrs. Cresswell turned to Mrs. Morrisson, whom she had captured, and said, “That’s just the sort of thing I want for June when she grows out of Wonder.”

“Oh, yes,” said Mrs. Morrisson; “but I suppose your little girl is going to take up riding as a career—it’s all she thinks about, isn’t it? But I don’t want Jilly to grow up empty-headed, and, next year, when she goes to a boarding school, she won’t have much time to exercise a very spirited animal, so I’m afraid she’ll just have to carry on with Wendy and Peter. It’s a pity, for she’s a promising little horsewoman, but I do think education’s so fearfully important, don’t you?”

Mrs. Cresswell was saved the trouble of thinking of a rude reply, for at that moment Major Holbrooke, having trotted and cantered round the field several times, called all the members together and started to give them a short lecture on collection. Then he and Harmony demonstrated the difference between the extended and collected paces, and he showed them how all the things they had learnt that morning—circles, passes, back reining and leading off at the canter—should be done, and he finished up with the flying change of leg, which Harmony could do at every stride. It was a perfect display, and the effortlessness with which both horse and rider performed the various movements impressed everyone. As Noel said to Susan, it made one want to get on one’s pony and start improving oneself straight away. She was soon given the opportunity, for, when Major Holbrooke had finished, he said they had time for a short equitation test before tea, and while he took Harmony back to the stable, everyone bridled their ponies and mounted.

The equitation test was quite simple, but it was too difficult for most of the members. You were supposed to walk, trot, and canter collectedly and extendedly, rein back,
and, if you were good enough, jump two jumps of two feet six. Only three ponies had any idea of collection. They were Golden Wonder, Beauty, and Mary Compton’s Blackbird. But as June was the only rider in a position to use her legs, she won easily. The Major pointed out to Mary and Susan how difficult they made it for their legs to do any work—Mary, by sticking hers too far forward; and Susan, by being precariously perched on the pommel, instead of sitting down in the saddle. It was impossible to distinguish between the rest of the members’ collected and extended paces, and a few—Jill Morrisson, Simon Wentwood, and Martin, the youngest Minton—were unable to make their ponies leave the others, while Anthony Rate got another lecture for holding Topper on a tight rein. In the end, Roger Radcliffe on Northwind was second, with a nice quiet performance, though entirely without collection, and Diana Melton, Joan’s younger sister, was third on her sensible grey cob Pewit.

Everyone was most annoyed that June had won. John told Richard, as they watered their ponies, that he wished Roger had been first, for he was jolly nice and not at all conceited, while this would make June worse than ever.

The ponies were tied up and each given a small feed to eat, while the Pony Club members had tea on the lawn. Mrs. Holbrooke had provided for large appetites, and there were platefuls of egg sandwiches, fruit-cakes, and chocolate biscuits. But for Noel, the whole meal was ruined by the sight of the trampled herbaceous border and the hoof-marks on the lawn. Whenever Major or Mrs. Holbrooke looked in her direction she felt sure that they were thinking: There’s that feeble, half-witted girl who let her dreadful pony gallop all over the garden—we’ll never ask her again. Actually, they didn’t think this at all, for though it was rather tiresome to have such a mess made of the garden, and they knew that Jenkyns, the head gardener, would grumble, they remembered the days of their youth, when they had let puppies, ponies and even ferrets escape, with disastrous results to hats, asparagus beds, and chickens. But this didn’t occur to Noel; she thought that everyone but herself was
frightfully efficient, and never tied knots that came undone or forgot to bring halters.

When everyone had eaten as much as he possibly could, and those parents who were present were telling their families that it was time to go home, Major Holbrooke announced that he had something to say, and asked them all to come a little nearer, because he didn’t want to shout himself hoarse. Everyone crowded round, and, when they had stopped talking, the Major told them about his cousin’s New Forest ponies, and said that anyone who weighed under eight and a half stone and was a fairly competent rider, and whose parents would allow it, could have a pony to break. He explained that the ponies were halter-broken and quite quiet, so that there would be no “rodeo business,” and that he was going to hold special instructional rallies for those who had the ponies and any one else who was interested in breaking and schooling. He also said that two people could share one pony if they liked, as they would want fairly regularly exercise. Any one who wanted a pony was to ring him up before Tuesday, and he would tell them whether he considered them capable of it.