Love and Loyalty. Valerie Tripp
Felicity held up the apron and shook her head sadly. “All these miles and miles of stitches! They are never finished,” she said.
“Slow and steady, my child,” said her mother. “They’ll be done faster if you do them right, so that you don’t have to sew every seam twice. Remember, haste makes waste.”
“Haste makes waste,” Felicity repeated. She and her mother had to smile at each other, for Felicity was told that haste makes waste at least once every day of her life.
Felicity settled down to her stitching and tried very hard to be careful—for a little while. At last, the sun broke through the clouds, and Felicity was allowed to go outside.
“Take these preserves to Mrs. Deare,” said her mother. “Nan and William will go with you. They’ve been cooped up, too.”
Felicity hid her disappointment. She wanted to go see Penny by herself. She didn’t want her little sister and brother dragging along. They were so slow! And she was so eager to see Penny. But she had no choice.
William toddled along on his fat little legs, dragging a stick through the mud. He stopped to pick up stones and drop them in puddles. He seemed to be trying to get as much mud on his shoes as he could. Nan walked in little ladylike steps, picking her way carefully around the puddles. Felicity was forever having to turn around and wait for careful Nan and muddy William.
“Oooh, Lissie,” said Nan. “Look at the fine hat in the milliner’s window! It has a whole bouquet of flowers on it! Let’s go in and look at it.”
“No! Come along, Nan,” said Felicity. “I don’t want to waste time with that foolishness.”
Nan was miffed for a while, but she put on her sweetest face when they reached Mrs. Deare’s house. Mrs. Deare gave Nan and William each a cake. She fussed over them until Felicity thought she’d burst with impatience. Then, when they were at last on their way to the tannery, Nan announced, “I want to go home. I won’t go any farther.”
“Nan!” Felicity said sternly. “We’re going to the tannery. Come along.”
“No!” said Nan, sticking out her lip. “The tannery smells terrible. I won’t go.”
“I won’t, too,” said William.
Felicity had an idea. “Nan,” she said slowly. “There are lots of flowers out by the tannery. You can pick them and put them in your hat, so it will look just like the one in the milliner’s window. Won’t that be fine?”
“Well, perhaps,” said Nan. “But I won’t speak to that dirty old Mr. Nye. He’s bad.”
“Bad,” repeated William. He swung his sticks as if they were swords.
Felicity led them along past Mr. Nye’s house to the pasture. And there was Penny! She was thinner, and her coat was even more matted and dirty. There was a red cut on one leg, as if she had hurt it trying to jump over the fence. Mr. Nye had tied Penny to a stake. The poor horse was straining at the rope, pawing the ground, and jerking and tossing her head.
“Horse!” said William.
“Her name is Penny,” said Felicity, “because she’s the color of a penny and because she’s so independent.”
“What does ‘independent’ mean?” asked Nan.
“It means she has a free spirit,” said Felicity. “Penny wants to run.” Felicity climbed up on the pasture fence.
“Don’t go near her!” warned Nan.
“She won’t hurt me. She will never hurt me,” said Felicity. She called to Penny softly, slowly, “Penny! Penny, love. Look here. Look what I’ve brought you.” Felicity tossed a lump of sugar close to Penny’s nose.
“So much sugar, Lissie!” said Nan. “Where did you get it?”
“Hush!” said Felicity. She didn’t take her eyes off Penny. “And don’t tell about it when we get home, or—”
“So!” Mr. Nye’s voice croaked in her ear. Felicity’s heart stopped. Mr. Nye grabbed her by the shoulders and pulled her down off the fence. Nan knelt next to William and held him tight.
“You’re that sly red-headed chit, ain’t ye?” said Mr. Nye. “Didn’t I tell ye to stay away from my horse?”
Felicity yanked herself out of his grasp. “I’m not hurting her,” she said.
“This horse is none of your business, hear me?” growled Mr. Nye. “She’s a vicious animal. She knocked the fence down trying to jump out of the pasture. I had to tie her up. I don’t want ye spookin’ her. Stay away!”
Felicity was frightened, but she was angry. “You are the one who scares the poor horse,” she said to Mr. Nye. “You have no right to treat her so badly.”
Mr. Nye grabbed Felicity again, but just then Penny whinnied wildly.
“Quiet, ye nag!” Mr. Nye shouted at Penny. He picked up a big stick and climbed into the pasture. As he came near, Penny reared. With a mighty pull, she broke the rope that tied her. Mr. Nye lost his balance and fell back into the dirt. He shook his fist at Penny as she ran away to the far end of the pasture.
“Ye worthless nag!” Mr. Nye yelled after Penny. His face was spattered with mud. “I’d give ye to anyone who can ride ye! Anyone can have ye! Hear me?” Mr. Nye stomped toward his house. Suddenly he turned toward Felicity and snarled, “And you! Get yourself and those brats out of here! I’ll skin ye alive if I see ye here again.” Then he stormed off.
Nan was crying. “Let’s go! Please, let’s go,” she begged. She pulled on Felicity’s petticoats and dragged her away. Felicity looked back to see Penny galloping around the pasture. At least Penny was not tied to the stake anymore. She was fenced in, but she could run and move. Good for you, Penny, thought Felicity. Don’t you let Mr. Nye scare you. I won’t let him scare me!
At suppertime, it was William who gave it away. “Big horse,” he said. “Bad man.” He waved his spoon wildly.
“Shh,” hissed Nan.
“What’s all this?” asked Mother. “You’ve not been out to see that horse of Jiggy Nye’s, have you?”
“Felicity made us go,” said Nan. “And the horse made Mr. Nye fall down in the mud. Then Mr. Nye called the horse a nag, and he said anyone could take it if they could ride it. And he said he would skin us alive if we ever came back!”
“Hush, my child!” scolded Mrs. Merriman. “It’s not proper to repeat such talk.” She looked at Felicity, and her face was serious. “Jiggy Nye told you not to come back, and you won’t—ever. His tannery is not a place for children.”
“He was going to strike the horse with a big stick!” added Nan.
“The man’s a villain of the worst sort,” muttered Mr. Merriman. “A horse beater.”
Ben spoke up. “He’ll kill the horse, sir,” he said. “Mark me, he will.”
“Oh, Father,” cried Felicity. “We can’t let Mr. Nye hurt Penny! We’ve got to help her. We’ve got to get her away from Mr. Nye! Can’t we buy her?”
“Gracious, no!” exclaimed her mother. “We’ve Old Bess for your father to ride, and Blossom to draw the cart.”
“Bess is so slow, it’s faster if you walk yourself!” said Felicity.
“Young lady,” said Mrs. Merriman. “It would not harm you to go more slowly in all things—stitches and speeches and thinking, too.”
Mr. Merriman spoke gently. “We’ve no need for a troublesome horse