At the sale I stood among the old, broken-down horses: some lame, some old, and some that it would have been kinder to shoot.
Then a farmer with a kind red face came by, with a young boy beside him, and his eye rested on me. I still had a good mane and tail, and I pricked up my ears and looked at him.
“There’s a horse, Willie, that has known better days.”
“Poor old fellow!” said the boy. “Do you think he was ever a carriage horse, Grandpapa?”
“Oh yes, my boy. He might have been anything when he was young.” He patted my neck kindly. I put out my nose in answer, and the boy stroked my face.
“See, Grandpapa, how well he understands kindness! Couldn’t you buy him and make him young again, as you did with Ladybird?”
“My dear boy, I can’t make all old horses young. Ladybird was not so very old; she was just badly treated.”
The man who had brought me to the sale spoke up. “The young gentleman is right, sir. This horse is just worn out with overwork in the cabs. The horse doctor said six months’ rest would set him right.”
The farmer slowly felt my swollen legs and looked into my mouth. “Thirteen or fourteen, I should say. Just trot him out, will you?”
I arched my poor thin neck and trotted as well as I could on my stiff legs.
“What is the lowest price?” asked the farmer.
“Five pounds, sir.”
“It’s a risk,” said the old gentleman, shaking his head, but he slowly took out his purse. The boy could hardly hide his joy.
Mr Thoroughgood, for that was my new master’s name, put me in a large field with a shed in one corner, with hay and oats every night and morning. “You, Willie,” he said, “must look after him. I put him in your care.”
The boy was proud of his job. Every day he came to see me, sometimes with a carrot, sometimes just to stand by me while I ate. He called me Old Friend, because I came to him in the field and followed him about, and of course I grew very fond of him.
Rest, good food and soft grass soon made me stronger and happier. During the winter my legs got so much better that I began to feel quite young again, and in March I pulled a small carriage for Mr Thoroughgood and Willie with ease.
“He’s growing young, Willie. By midsummer he will be as good as Ladybird.”
“Oh, Grandpapa, how glad I am you bought him!”
“So am I, my boy, but he has you to thank more than me. Now we must look for a quiet, good home for him, where people will value him.”