They were much less picturesque in their winter wraps, as they whirled
away under the leafless trees, but they made up for it in merriment.
Edward and Helene were secretly glad of the presence of Rose. It was
impossible to be frigidly formal with that sunny face beaming up now
at one, then at the other. This deep young person had made up her mind
that she would spare no pains to bring about a better state of feeling
between the two. When conversation lagged or threatened to become
formally precise, she gave utterance to some amazing piece of
nonsense, which compelled a laugh from the others, or else indulged in
prettily assumed alarm, lest their horse should prove untrustworthy.
"When you see a horse's ears move," she declared, "it is a sign that
he is vicious. Flip's ears were never still."
"Why, Rose," cried her brother, "this horse is no more like Flip than
an old cow is like a wild cat. Besides his ears don't move."
"Oh, yes, they do," remarked Helene, with the calmness of scientific
conviction. "When a horse moves his ears have got to move too. They
are not detachable. It is the same with other animals.
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