dolen, who had seated herself with much grace on the elbow of her mamma's chair.
"We could lend her the pony sometimes," said Mrs Gascoigne, watching her husband's face, and feeling quite ready to disapprove if he did.
"That might be inconveniencing others, aunt, and would be no pleasure to me. I cannot endure ponies," said Gwendolen. "I would rather give up some other indulgence and have a horse." (Was there ever a young lady or gentleman not ready to give up an unspecified indulgence for the sake of the favourite one specified?)
"She rides so well. She has had lessons, and the riding-master said she had so good a seat and hand she might be trusted with any mount," said Mrs Davilow, who, even if she had not wished her darling to have the horse, would not have dared to be lukewarm in trying to get it for her.
"There is the price of the horse—a good sixty with the best chance, and then his keep," said Mr Gascoigne, in a tone which, though demurring, betrayed the inward presence of something that favoured the demand. "There are the carriage-horses—already a heavy item. And remember what you ladies cost in toilette now."
"I really wear nothing but two black dresses," said Mrs Davilow, hastily. "And the younger
