“Astride! In breeches?” Abe sounded as scandalized as any prudish matron.
“Certainly astride,” said Isobel as she countered.” Then she can learn balance and control and gain confidence before she has to deal with a side-saddle.”
Laura, clad in clothes borrowed from the cook’s grandson, stood watching them, her head moving back and forth like a spectator at a shuttlecock game. The argument had been going on for ten minutes now and the groom holding the little grey pony’s head was staring blankly across the paddock, obviously wishing himself elsewhere.
“Is that how you learned to ride?” Abe demanded.
“Certainly.” And she still did when she could get away with it. “ I am only concerned with Laura’s safety.”
“Very well.” As she had guessed, that clinched the argument. Abe lifted the child
