at us; she was a tall, proud-looking woman, and did not seem pleased about something, but she said nothing, and got into the carriage.  This was the first time of wearing a check-rein, and I must say, though it certainly was a nuisance not to be able to get my head down now and then, it did not pull my head higher than I was accustomed to carry it.  I felt anxious about Ginger, but she seemed to be quiet and content.

[Illustration]

The next day we were again at the door, and the footmen as before; we heard the silk dress rustle, and the lady came down the steps, and in an imperious voice, she said, “York, you must put those horses’ heads higher, they are not fit to be seen.”

York got down, and said very respectfully, “I beg your pardon, my lady, but these horses have not been reined up for three years, and my lord said it would be safer to bring them to it by degrees; but, if your ladyship pleases, I can take them up a little more.”  “Do so,” she said.

York came round to our heads and shortened the rein himself, one hole, I think.  Every little makes a difference, be it for better or worse, and that day we had a steep hill to go up.  Then I began to understand what I had heard of.  Of course, I wanted to put my head forward and take the carriage up with a will as we had been used to do; but no, I had to pull with my head up now, and that took all the spirit out of me, and the strain came on my back and legs.  When we came in, Ginger said, “Now you see what it is like; but this is not bad, and if it does not get much worse than this I shall say nothing about it, for we are very well treated here; but if they strain me up tight, why, let ’em look out!  I can’t bear it, and I won’t.”

Day by day, hole by hole, our bearing-reins were shortened, and instead of looking forward with pleasure to having my harness put on, as I used to do, I began to dread it.  Ginger too seemed restless, thought she said very little.  The worst was yet to come.

CHAPTER X

A STRIKE FOR LIBERTY

One day my lady came down later than usual, and the silk rustled more than ever.  “Drive to the Duchess of B——­’s,” she said, and then after a pause, “Are you never going to get those horses’ heads up, York?  Raise them at once, and let us have no more of this humoring nonsense.”

York came to me first, while the groom stood at Ginger’s head.  He drew my head back and fixed the rein so tight that it was almost intolerable; then he went to Ginger, who was impatiently jerking her head up and down against the bit, as was her way now.  She had a good idea of what was coming, and the moment York took the rein off the turret in order to shorten it, she took her opportunity, and reared up so suddenly that York had his nose roughly hit and his hat knocked off; the groom was nearly thrown off his legs.  At once they both flew to her head, but she was a