Kittredge, because of the very steep hill along the way. “You can stop worrying, Winston,” she said, climbing into the cart. “I’m just teasing you. We’re not going to Raven Hall. At least, not today.”
To Rascal, she added, in a tone loud enough for Winston to hear, “You know, Rascal, it is always a delight to drive a willing pony. Some ponies make a terrible fuss about every little bump in the road, or shy at the sight of a mouse in the lane.” She picked up the reins. “But not our Winston. Oh, no! He is surely the steadiest, most trustworthy pony in the village. And because he is so cheerful and cooperative, he’ll find carrots in his manger when he gets back home.”
If you are thinking that Winston ought not to be taken in by such compliments—well, I suppose you’re right. But I don’t imagine that Farmer Jennings, who is a rather matter-of-fact fellow, is any too free with his praise. Winston is probably quite hungry for a compliment, whilst a carrot or two can never go amiss. And Miss Potter, over the years, has had the misfortune to drive ponies who were not cooperative or cheerful as he, and who threatened to run off and overturn the cart whenever anything unusual crossed their path. She knows a good pony when she meets one, and is not at all sparing with her compliments.
So if Winston pranced a little more proudly as they began their drive through the village, I think you can understand why. It was nice to know that Miss Potter considered him not only the steadiest of ponies, but cheerful and cooperative, as well. And if Miss Potter smiled, it was because she knew that Winston would do his very best to get them to Tidmarsh Manor and back again safely, a sentiment you will certainly understand if you have ever had a pony run away with your pony cart.
Beatrix, Winston, and Rascal had not driven far when they met a young woman coming down the lane in their direction. It was Deirdre Malone, the Irish girl (now seventeen) who keeps the account books for Mr. Sutton, the village veterinarian, and helps Mrs. Sutton with the eight young Suttons, all of whom live rather cozily in Courier Cottage. If you didn’t already know that Deirdre was Irish, you might guess it from her bright green eyes, the freckles dusted generously across her nose, and the carroty tendrils escaping from under her gray cap, knitted from the handspun fleece of Miss Potter’s Herdwick ewes. In one hand she held a bundle of the Courier Cottage post, for she was coming from the post office. The other held the hand of one of the multitudinous younger Suttons, who held to the hand of another young Sutton, who held to the hand of a third and then a fourth—a veritable crocodile of little Suttons.
“Hello, Miss Potter!” Deidre called. “Welcome back to the village!” To the children, she said, “Boys and girls, say ‘welcome’ to Miss Potter.”
“Welcome, Mith Potter!” dutifully lisped the crocodile in chorus. Several of the Suttons were missing their front teeth, owing to their age.
“Thank you, children,” Beatrix said. She had a warm affection for the young Suttons and kept them supplied with books. She also had a great admiration for Deirdre, a resourceful and energetic young person. Not long ago, the girl had discovered that Mr. Sutton’s veterinary practice was losing money faster than he could earn it, because of Mrs. Sutton’s failure to insist on payment when service was rendered. She had come up with a plan to collect the overdue money (and thereby keep Courier Cottage from being foreclosed by the bank), and Miss Potter had helped her to carry it out. Between the two of them (although Miss Potter always said that the credit belonged entirely to Deirdre), the Suttons had been saved. Now, Deirdre managed the office for the doctor and made sure that arrangements for payment were made before the client and his or her animal friend had left the surgery.
“You’re looking very happy, Deirdre,” Beatrix
To Rascal, she added, in a tone loud enough for Winston to hear, “You know, Rascal, it is always a delight to drive a willing pony. Some ponies make a terrible fuss about every little bump in the road, or shy at the sight of a mouse in the lane.” She picked up the reins. “But not our Winston. Oh, no! He is surely the steadiest, most trustworthy pony in the village. And because he is so cheerful and cooperative, he’ll find carrots in his manger when he gets back home.”
If you are thinking that Winston ought not to be taken in by such compliments—well, I suppose you’re right. But I don’t imagine that Farmer Jennings, who is a rather matter-of-fact fellow, is any too free with his praise. Winston is probably quite hungry for a compliment, whilst a carrot or two can never go amiss. And Miss Potter, over the years, has had the misfortune to drive ponies who were not cooperative or cheerful as he, and who threatened to run off and overturn the cart whenever anything unusual crossed their path. She knows a good pony when she meets one, and is not at all sparing with her compliments.
So if Winston pranced a little more proudly as they began their drive through the village, I think you can understand why. It was nice to know that Miss Potter considered him not only the steadiest of ponies, but cheerful and cooperative, as well. And if Miss Potter smiled, it was because she knew that Winston would do his very best to get them to Tidmarsh Manor and back again safely, a sentiment you will certainly understand if you have ever had a pony run away with your pony cart.
Beatrix, Winston, and Rascal had not driven far when they met a young woman coming down the lane in their direction. It was Deirdre Malone, the Irish girl (now seventeen) who keeps the account books for Mr. Sutton, the village veterinarian, and helps Mrs. Sutton with the eight young Suttons, all of whom live rather cozily in Courier Cottage. If you didn’t already know that Deirdre was Irish, you might guess it from her bright green eyes, the freckles dusted generously across her nose, and the carroty tendrils escaping from under her gray cap, knitted from the handspun fleece of Miss Potter’s Herdwick ewes. In one hand she held a bundle of the Courier Cottage post, for she was coming from the post office. The other held the hand of one of the multitudinous younger Suttons, who held to the hand of another young Sutton, who held to the hand of a third and then a fourth—a veritable crocodile of little Suttons.
“Hello, Miss Potter!” Deidre called. “Welcome back to the village!” To the children, she said, “Boys and girls, say ‘welcome’ to Miss Potter.”
“Welcome, Mith Potter!” dutifully lisped the crocodile in chorus. Several of the Suttons were missing their front teeth, owing to their age.
“Thank you, children,” Beatrix said. She had a warm affection for the young Suttons and kept them supplied with books. She also had a great admiration for Deirdre, a resourceful and energetic young person. Not long ago, the girl had discovered that Mr. Sutton’s veterinary practice was losing money faster than he could earn it, because of Mrs. Sutton’s failure to insist on payment when service was rendered. She had come up with a plan to collect the overdue money (and thereby keep Courier Cottage from being foreclosed by the bank), and Miss Potter had helped her to carry it out. Between the two of them (although Miss Potter always said that the credit belonged entirely to Deirdre), the Suttons had been saved. Now, Deirdre managed the office for the doctor and made sure that arrangements for payment were made before the client and his or her animal friend had left the surgery.
“You’re looking very happy, Deirdre,” Beatrix
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