A Bad Plan - 391

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A Bad Plan.

    I saw your son whipping, kicking, and knocking that good little pony about shamefully, because he would not leap a gate that was too high for him. The pony behaved well, Sir; but at last he just threw up his heels and tipped the young gentleman into the thorn hedge. He wanted me to help him out; but I did not feel inclined to do so. There are no bones broken, Sir; he has only got a few scratches, I love horses, and it makes me angry to see them badly used. It is a bad plan to annoy an animal till he uses his heels.

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