He turned round as far as his halter would allow, held up his head, and said, “My name is Merrylegs. I am very handsome; I carry the young ladies on my back, and sometimes I take our mistress out in the low chair. They think a great deal of me, and so does James. Are you going to live next door to me in the box?”

I said, “Yes.”

“Well, then,” he said, “I hope you are good-tempered; I do not like anyone next door who bites.”

Just then a horse’s head looked over from the stall beyond; the ears were laid back, and the eye looked rather ill-tempered. This was a tall chestnut mare, with a long handsome neck. She looked across to me and said:

“So it is you who have turned me out of my box; it is a very strange thing for a colt like you to come and turn a lady out of her own home.”

“I beg your pardon,” I said, “I have turned no one out; the man who brought me put me here, and I had nothing to do with it; and as to my being a colt, I am turned four years old and am a grownup horse. I never had words yet with horse or mare, and it is my wish to live at peace.”

“Well,” she said, “we shall see. Of course, I do not want to have words with a young thing like you.” I said no more.

In the afternoon, when she went out, Merrylegs told me all about it.