handed him the harness and bit. “Mr. Nye didn’t buy these things, sir. He can’t control the horse enough to harness it. ’Tis a headstrong, independent-minded horse, a bright chestnut mare, and fast as fire.”
“How did Jiggy Nye come to have such a horse?” asked Mrs. Merriman.
“No one knows for sure,” said Ben. “Mr. Nye says he won the horse in a bet from a man who found it straying in the woods. He says the man put a notice in the newspaper. The notice said that whoever lost the horse should come to claim it, but no one ever came. That’s just Mr. Nye’s story, though. It’s hard to trust his word.”
Felicity had never heard Ben talk so much. She was surprised at all he knew.
“It’s a pity Jiggy’s got hold of the horse,” Mr. Merriman said. He shook his head. “It will not end well, I fear.”
Felicity could tell by the look on her father’s face that Penny was in danger. She made up her mind to go back to the tannery and see Penny as soon as she could.
Jiggy Nye’s Threat
“In this storm?” her mother said. “Don’t be a goose! The streets are all mud, and you’ll be soaked to the skin in this rain. You will just have to wait till it stops.”
Felicity sighed.
“Lissie, my love,” said her mother. Her gentle voice sounded tired. “Look at this apron you sewed. I’ve had to rip out the hem on it again. It’s supposed to be twenty stitches to the inch, Lissie. And in a line. Yours fly all over. Your sister Nan sews more carefully, and she is but six years old.”
“I’m sorry, Mother. Indeed I am,” said Felicity. “My hands just won’t go so slow.”
Mrs. Merriman patted Felicity’s hands and gave her the apron. “You will have to teach your hands to slow down, my girl,” she said.
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
