Blue Gipsy's filly had broken two pairs of shafts¹, kicked a hole through a dash-board, and endeavoured to take a fence carriage and all, in a fixed² determination not to become a harness-horse. It was evident that she had chosen her career and meant to stick to it.  
"Break her to the shafts if you have to half kill her," Mr. Harry³ had said, but there were some things that Mr. Harry did not understand so well as Peter.
 
"Where's the use in spoilin' a good jumper for the sake o' makin' a poor drivin' horse?" Peter had asked the trainer, and he had added that the master was talking through his hat.
 
Peter had already explained the matter to Mr. Harry, but Mr. Harry was very much like the filly; when he had made up his mind he did not like to change. Peter decided⁴ to talk it over once more, however, before he risked another groom⁵. The first groom had dislocated his shoulder, and he refused to have any further intercourse⁶ with Blue Gypsy's filly.
 
Poor Peter felt himself growing old under the weight of his responsibilities. Three years before he had been a care-free groom at Willowbrook; now, since Miss Ethel had married Mr. Harry, he was coachman at Jasper Place, with seven horses and three men under him. Occasionally he gazed rather wistfully across the meadow to where the Willowbrook stables showed a red blur⁷ through the gray-green trees. He had served there eleven years as stable-boy and groom, and though he had more than once tasted the end of a strap⁸ under Joe's vigorous dominion⁹, it had been a happily irresponsible life. Not that he wished the old[Pg 283] time back, for that would mean that there would be no Annie waiting supper for him at night in the coachman's cottage, but he did wish sometimes that Mr. Harry had a little more common sense about managing horses. Blue Gypsy's filly trotting¹⁰ peaceably between shafts! It was in her blood to jump, and jump she would; you might as well train a bull pup to grow up a Japanese poodle and sleep on a satin cushion.
 
Peter, pondering the matter, strolled over to the kitchen and inquired of Ellen where Mr. Harry was. Mr. Harry was in the library, she said, and Peter could go right through.
 
The carpet was soft, and he made no noise. He did not mean to listen, but he had almost reached the library door before he realized and then he stood still, partly because he was dazed, and partly because he was interested.
 
He did not know what had gone before, but the first thing he heard was Miss Ethel's voice, and though he could not see her, he knew from[Pg 284] the tone what she looked like, with her head thrown back and her chin up and her eyes flashing.
 
"I am the best judge of my own actions," she said, "and I shall receive whom I please. You always put the wrong interpretation¹¹ on everything I do, and I am tired of your interfering¹². If you would go away and leave me alone it would be best for us both—I feel sometimes as though I never wanted to see you again."
 
Then a long silence, and finally the cold, repressed tones of her husband asked: "Do you mean that?"
 
She did not answer, except by a long indrawn sob¹³ of anger. Peter had heard that sound before, when she was a child, and he knew how it ought to be dealt with; but Mr. Harry did not; he was far too polite.
 
After another silence he said quietly: "If I go, I go to stay—a long time."
 
"Stay forever, if you like."
 
Peter turned and tiptoed out, feeling unhappy and ashamed, as he had felt that other time when he had overheard. He went back to the stables, and sitting down with his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands, he pondered the situation. If he were Mr. Harry for just ten minutes, he told himself fiercely, he would soon settle things; but Mr. Harry did not understand. When it came to managing horses he was too rough, as if they had no sense; and when it came to managing women, he was too easy, as if they were all sense. Peter sighed miserably¹⁴. His heart ached for them both: for Miss Ethel, because he knew that she did not mean what she said, and would later be sorry; for Mr. Harry, because he knew that he did mean what he said—terribly and earnestly. Neither understood the other, and it was all such a muddle¹⁵ when just a little common sense would have made everything happy. Then he shrugged¹⁶ his shoulders and told himself that it was none of his business; that he guessed they could make up their quarrels without help from him. And he fell to scolding the stable-boy for mixing up the harness.
 
In about half an hour, Oscar, the valet, came running out to the stables looking pleased and excited, with an order to get the runabout ready immediately to go to the station. Oscar was evidently bursting with news, but Peter pretended not to be interested, and kept on with his work without looking up.
 
"The master's going in to New York and I follow to-night with his things, and to-morrow we sail for England! Maybe we'll go from there on a hunting trip to India—I'm to pack the guns. There's been trouble," he added significantly. "Mrs. Jasper's in her room with the door banged shut, and the master is pretty quiet and white-like about the gills."
 
"Shut up an' mind yer own business," Peter snapped, and he led out the horses and began putting on the harness with hands that trembled.
 
As he drew up at the stepping-stone, Mr.[Pg 287] Harry jumped in. "Well, Peter," he said, in a voice which was meant to be cheerful, but was a very poor imitation, "we must drive fast if we're to make the four-thirty train."
 
"Yes, sir," said Peter, briskly clicking to the horses, and for once he thanked his stars that the station was four miles away. A great resolve had been growing in his mind, and it required some time and a good deal of courage to carry it out. He glanced sideways at the grim, pale face beside him, and cleared his throat uneasily.
 
"Beggin' yer pardon," he began, "I was at the library door to ask about the filly, an' without meanin' to, I heard why you was goin' away."
 
A quick flush spread over Mr. Harry's face, and he glanced angrily at his coachman.
 
"The devil!" he muttered.
 
"Yes, sir," said Peter. "I suppose ye'll be dischargin' me, Mr. Harry, for speakin', but I feel it's me dooty, and I can't keep quiet. Beggin' yer pardon, sir, I've knowed Miss Ethel longer than you have. I was servin' at Willowbrook all the time that ye was in boardin' school an' college. Her hair was hangin' down her back an' she was drivin' a pony¹⁷ cart when I first come. I watched her grow and I know her ways—there was times, sir, when she was most uncommon¹⁸ troublesome. She's the kind of a woman as needs managin', and if ye'll excuse me for sayin' so, it takes a man to do it. Ye're too quiet an' gentleman-like, Mr. Harry. Though I guess she likes to have ye act like a gentleman, when ye can't do both she'd rather have ye act like a man. If I was her husband——"
 
"You forget yourself, Peter!"
 
"Yes, sir. Beg yer pardon, sir, but as I was sayin', if I was her husband, I'd let her see who was master pretty quick, an' she'd like me the better. And if she ever told me she would be glad for me to go away an' never come back, I'd look at her black like with me[Pg 289] arms folded, and I'd say: 'Ye would, would ye? In that case I'll stay right here an' niver go away.' An' then she'd be so mad she'd put her head down on the back o' the chair an' cry, deep like, the way she always did when she couldn't have what she wanted, an' I'd wait with a frown on me brow, an' when she got through she'd be all over it, an' would ask me pardon sorrowful like; an' I'd wait a while an' let it soak in, an' then I'd forgive her."
 
Mr. Harry stared at Peter, too amazed to speak.
 
"Yes, sir," Peter resumed, "I've watched Miss Ethel grow up, and I knows her like her own mother, as ye might say. I've drove her to and from the town for thirteen years, and I've rode after her many miles on horseback, an' when she felt like it she would talk to me as chatty as if I weren't a groom. She was always that way with the servants; she took an interest in our troubles, an' we all[Pg 290] liked her spite o' the fact that she was a bit over-rulin'."
 
Mr. Harry knit his brows and stared ahead without speaking, and Peter glanced at him uneasily and hesitated.
 
"There's another thing I'd like to tell ye, sir, though I'm not sure how ye'll take it."
 
"Don't hesitate on my account," murmured Mr. Harry, ironically. "Say anything you please, Peter."
 
"Well, sir, I guess ye may have forgotten, but I was the groom ye took with ye that time before ye was married when ye an' Miss Ethel went to see the old wreck¹⁹."
 
Mr. Harry looked at Peter with a quick, haughty²⁰ stare; but Peter was examining the end of his whip and did not see.
 
"An' ye left me an' the cart, sir, under the bank, if ye'll remember, an' ye didn't walk far enough away, an' ye spoke²¹ pretty loud, and I couldn't help hearin' ye."
 
"Damn your impertinence!" said Mr. Harry.
 
"Yes, sir," said Peter. "I never told no one, not even me wife, but I understood after that how things was goin'. An' when ye went away travellin' so............