I had lived in this happy place for three years, but sad changes were coming. The mistress was ill, and the doctor said she must go to a warm country for two or three years. The master began to make plans to leave England, and in our stable nothing else was talked about. John was silent and sad as he worked, and Joe hardly whistled.
Then we heard what had been arranged for us. The master had sold Ginger and me to his old friend, the Earl, because he thought we would have a good place there. He had given Merrylegs to the vicar, but only on condition that he would never be sold, and Joe was to look after him. So Merrylegs was well off.
The evening before they left, the master came into the stable to give his horses a last pat. He seemed very sad; I knew that from his voice. I believe we horses can tell more by the voice than many men can.
“Have you decided what to do, John?”
“Yes, sir. I would like to work as a trainer of young horses. So many of them are frightened and spoiled by wrong treatment. If I could give some of them a fair start, I would feel I was doing some good.”
“I don’t know a man anywhere who would be better at it,” said the master. “You understand horses, and somehow they understand you.” Then he thanked John for his long and faithful service. That was too much for John.
“Please don’t, sir. You and my dear mistress have done so much for me that I could never repay it.” The master gave John his hand, but he did not speak.
On the last sad day, Ginger and I brought the carriage to the front door. The master came down the steps carrying the mistress in his arms and placed her carefully in the carriage, while the servants stood round crying.
“Drive on, John.”
We trotted slowly through the village, where people stood at their doors and said, “God bless them.”
At the railway station I heard the mistress say in her sweet voice, “Goodbye, John. God bless you.” I felt the reins move, but John did not answer; perhaps he could not speak. Joe stood close to our heads to hide his tears. Soon the train moved away, leaving only clouds of white smoke and some very heavy hearts.
When it was out of sight, John came back.
“We shall never see her again,” he said. “Never.”
He took the reins and drove slowly home. But it was not our home now.