CHAPTER XVII

NED DISGRACES HIMSELF, BUT MAKES AMENDS

The first of September came all too quickly. Pokey’s trunk was packed, and Pokey, with many regrets, and many yearnings for a longer stay in her beloved Springdale, set her face toward Brooklyn, and school. As usual, Denise was forlorn for several days, but it is hard to remain doleful when one is but twelve years old, and the world is a very lovely place indeed. Her own studies would not be resumed until October, when the cool, crisp air would turn work into pleasure, and the young brain, fresh and keenly receptive after its long rest, would be ready to grasp and retain new ideas and new impressions.

During Pokey’s visit Denise had scarcely ridden Ned at all, but now that she was alone once more, riding presented a novelty, all the more alluring because she had not indulged in it for several weeks. The day after Pokey’s departure Denise had Ned saddled, and started off for a canter. The little beast seemed to enjoy the outing quite as much as she did, and swung along with the easy motion so natural to him when under the saddle. They chose a pretty road leading along the river-bank, but in the opposite direction from the village, as Denise did not wish to take any chances with Nero, and, so far as she knew, no belligerent animals lived along the road she and Ned were following so happily. But, alas! how easily our most carefully laid plans can go amiss.

Denise rode gracefully and easily, and it required something rather out of the ordinary to unseat her. They were cantering along beneath the beautiful elms which bordered the road and cast their shadows upon it, making it sweet and cool that delightful morning, when, just behind the hedge dividing it from a gentleman’s grounds, there arose a wild yapping which caused Ned to shake his head as though he were disgusted with such a discordant sound when all was so silent and restful about them.

“Do we know that dog?” Denise asked, as though Ned were able to understand and reply to her question. But such questions were not unusual. She and Ned held amazing conversations, each in a language well understood by the other. Ned tossed his head up and down in an irritable sort of manner, as though he were trying to say, “I don’t think that he is one of our friends,” and somewhat increased his pace. The hedge was a high one, and they could not see over it, but, before they had gone ten yards, a fluffy, clumsy puppy wriggled through a gap just behind them, and came tearing after them as fast as he could run.

Now neither Denise nor Ned had any objections to puppies in general, or to this one in particular, and would have attended strictly to their own business had he only seen fit to attend to his, but this puppy had recently arrived upon the scene, and felt that he had much to discover. His master had bought him at a dog fancier’s in New York, where the greater part of his life had been spent in very limited quarters, and his walks abroad had been taken at the end of a chain. Now, joy to tell! he had ten-acre grounds to cavort about in, but, like many another creature who suddenly finds himself surrounded by almost boundless luxury, after narrow limitations, he wanted an ell when a very liberal inch had been voluntarily given him.

So he proceeded to take it by wriggling under the hedge, and, once out upon the highway, there he beheld a sight which instantly banished what small remnant of common sense remained to him, and he set about having a royal good time.

If Denise had any notion of getting out of his blundering way, he had no idea of allowing her to do so, and, almost before a breath could be drawn, his legs and Ned’s were being tied up in hard knots.

“Yap, yap,” barked the tormenting little beast, making wild grabs at Ned’s flowing tail, or snapping at his fetlocks.

“Get away, you stupid thing!” cried Denise, reaching over to give him a well-merited lash with her riding-whip. But she might as well have tried to hit a will-o’-the-wisp, for, clumsy as he seemed, that vexatious little beast was wonderfully agile, and seemed to regard the action as part of the fun. Helter-skelter, around and about he scurried, one minute in front of Ned, the next minute snapping at his heels, until it was no wonder that such a well-conducted animal’s patience became exhausted, and he felt that this tomfoolery had gone far enough.

“Of all the crazy things I have ever seen, _you_ certainly are the craziest!” exclaimed Denise, doing her best to get unsnarled from the little wretch. “Go!” she cried, giving the word that Ned understood so well, and was always so quick to respond to. And “go,” he did.

With one wild leap, he bounded straight over his tormentor, and made a dash for freedom, but even as he sprang forward that miserable puppy got in the last stroke, which settled matters in short order, for he gave a final vicious snap at Ned’s heels, and his sharp teeth pricked like needles.

That was too much! Ned forgot the beloved burden he was carrying, forgot that Denise was somewhat off her guard, and more liable to become unseated than she would ordinarily have been. Out flew two hind feet to administer one and one _very_ telling, vicious kick at that hateful little beast, which caught him fairly and squarely in his ribs, and sent him howling back to his friends. But, alack-a-day! it accomplished other things also, for away shot Denise clear and clean over Ned’s head, to land in a heap in the dust of the road, where she lay for a moment half stunned by the shock, although not seriously hurt.

If ever an animal’s face expressed consternation and contrition Ned’s certainly did then, and, with one wild neigh, he rushed up to his beloved little mistress just as a carriage rapidly approached from the other direction. Now some people assert with a good bit of assurance that animals do not think, particularly that horses do not. Nevertheless, what I am about to tell you is as true as anything in this world can be. Ned stood beside his prone rider, his eyes wild with fright and quivering in every limb. That carriage was coming toward her as fast as ever it could come, and why, oh! why, didn’t she get out of its way? It would certainly run over her, and those big, prancing horses would crush something which he loved better than anything in this world. They must not! No, they _should_ not do it, and he must prevent them if possible. Poor little Ned Toodles could not understand that the very haste with which the carriage approached meant succor for Denise, for the occupants had witnessed the whole scene, and were filled with dismay at its ending.

It was almost upon them when Ned gave another neigh, and did that which caused the lady in the carriage to clasp her hands together and almost scream aloud. He stepped directly over Denise, and stood with his front and hind legs astride her, thereby making it impossible for the big horses to harm her without first crushing him. The brave little head was raised in defiance, and the nostrils snorted a challenge to those great creatures which he thought were about to trample his mistress beneath their feet. Dear little Ned Toodles, you have been dust these many years, but your mistress has never forgotten that brave deed, and her eyes fill with tears when she recalls this proof of your devotion to her.

The coachman drew up his horses beside the fallen girl and her courageous little horse, the lady hastily descended from the carriage, and a second later held Denise in her arms, Ned nosing and nickering over her as though he were trying to express his sorrow and console her for her fall.

“You darling!” exclaimed the lady, sparing a hand to rub his velvety nose, even though she was seriously alarmed for Denise. But Denise was not injured, and presently opened her eyes to blink at Ned and look with surprise at the lady holding her.

“Why, what happened to me?” she cried, sitting straight up and looking at those gathered about her.

“Nothing serious, I hope,” answered the lady. “You took a header over your pony’s neck, and it stunned you for a moment. But he took such wonderful care of you that no great harm has come to you, I think.”

“Oh! I fell off when Ned kicked at that horrid little dog, didn’t I? But I am not hurt a bit, although I feel sort of all shaken up and tossed about,” said Denise, as she got upon her feet and began settling her dusty habit. Ned scrooched close up to her, as though striving to apologize, and Denise put her arm about his neck.

“Poor little Ned Toodles, did you think you had killed your missie?” she asked, as she rested her still dizzy head upon his shaggy mane. “No, I’m not a bit dead, and when I get my wits we will go home and tell mamma all about it before some one else has a chance to do it, and frighten her half to death. Thank you ever so much for helping me,” she said to the lady.

“We are more than glad that we came along just as we did, even though you seem to have a very efficient protector in your pony. It was the most wonderful thing I have ever seen. Won’t you get into the carriage with me and tell me something about yourself and him? I am a stranger in Springdale, but I am sure I have stumbled upon one of its attractions.”

“Ned is considered quite remarkable,” answered Denise, never for a moment appropriating even a portion of the compliment. “We have been so much together since I got him two years ago that I half believe he has grown to be just like folks. But I don’t believe that I would better get into the carriage. I feel nearly all right now, and if mamma were to see me coming home in the carriage and Ned following it, she might be frightened. Ned won’t spill me again, and it wasn’t so much his fault anyway; if I had been thinking what I was about I never would have fallen, for he often jumps a fence or ditch and I never think of spilling off. But that puppy drove all my wits out of my head, I believe; the horrid little thing!”

“Well, we will drive along beside you, at all events, and if you do not feel just right you can dismount and come into the carriage with me.”

“Thank you very much, but I don’t think that I shall have to,” and, turning to Ned, she cuddled and stroked him before mounting him again. Ned met her more than half-way, and the lady smiled at the pretty bit of by-play she was watching, although the actors were entirely unconscious that they were doing anything out of the ordinary.

Leading Ned to the stepping-stone beside the road, Denise settled herself upon his back, although, ordinarily, she would not have required any aid in mounting. But her head was still unsteady, and the usual spring to her seat did not seem as easy a thing as it ordinarily would have seemed.

They walked along side by side, the lady keeping a watchful eye upon Denise, and feeling greatly entertained by her. As though to make full amends for his temporary lapse from good behavior, Ned Toodles pattered along beside the carriage as sedately as any old stager might have done, and when they came to Denise’s home stopped for her to bid her friend farewell. But Mrs. Lombard was walking about the grounds, and only one glance from _that_ mother’s eye was needed to discover that something had happened to that very precious little daughter, and she hastened to the gate. Then followed explanations, and began an acquaintance which, ere long, ripened into a very warm friendship, and Ned’s first misdemeanor resulted in something very delightful for his little mistress and her mother.