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Updated: May 22, 2025
John stood patting the horse's neck. "Wasn't his mother a Virginia mare, James?" said Ann. "Yes." "Oh, then call him Dixy." For a moment the Squire was of a mind to object, but said gaily, "By all means, Ann, call him Dixy if you like, and now breakfast, please." Here they heard Dixy's pedigree at length. "Above all, Jack, remember that Dixy is of gentle birth; make friends with him.
"Nice work for Sunday, Miss Grey." She made no direct reply. "He told me that horse ought to be ridden by by John or you, and no one else. He says the way to ruin a horse is to have a lot of people ride him like Pat they're just spoiling Dixy " "What! in four days? Nonsense." "But," said the counsel in the case, "it's to be ten. It isn't about John, it's Dixy's mouth, uncle."
As he rode away the reins on Dixy's neck, he read his letters and stuffed them in his pocket until he came to one, over which he lingered long. It ran thus: "MY DEAR SIR: Will you not reconsider the offer of the colonelcy of a regiment? It will not require your presence until July. There is no need to reply at once.
The Squire exploded, "Good gracious! that is Ann Grey all over. You must have heard her say it." "I did, and you listen, too. Sometimes you don't, Uncle Jim. I guess you weren't well broke when you were young." "Great Scott! you minx! Some day a girl I know will have to stand at attention. Go ahead." "Pat's ruining Dixy's mouth. You ought to see him sawing at the curb.
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