‘Do you mean riding astride on horseback?’
‘Just so. The lady’s side-seat is the curse of the riding world. Foolish, awkward, uncomfortable, unsafe, there is not a good word to be said for it. It belongs to the age of tattooing and nose-rings.’
‘I agree with you, Uncle Spines. I’ve often thought that circus girls riding astride are the only females who ever look well on horseback. But when and where shall I begin?’
‘We'll take out the old pony and practise you a bit over gaps. When you get beyond him, I'll find you a proper mount. I shall consider that I spend money on an important social duty.’
The pony was a tough one who could bear a little knocking about, and in a few days Lesbia was quite at home in her new and more natural position on horseback. One afternoon, while she was practising backwards and forwards over a hedge and ditch on the glebe land, her uncle watching the performance, there appeared on the scene, from a gate which opened into the bottom of the field out of a lane, screened by a high bullfinch, three visitors, two ladies and a gentleman. They came just in time to see Lesbia get her third tumble, the edge of the ditch breaking under the pony’s fore feet as he landed. The nimble young girl was up in a moment and mounted again as they came within distance to be recognised.
‘Why, uncle!’ she exclaimed, ‘if here isn’t Mr Lockstable under the protection of Letitia and Rose! How did you find us out?’ she asked them as they approached.
‘We called at the vicarage,’ answered Athelstan, ‘and that maid of yours, Feefofumsquintingpot, eh?’
‘How absurd you are, Mr Lockstable!’ Lesbia laughed; ‘you never get that precious girl’s name right. Fidgfumblasquidiot, can’t you say?’
