Snowball plodded slowly down the dusty lane, moving at exactly the pace that suited him.
As he refused to hurry, whatever his rider might do, Odetta pretended that she was riding a huge black stallion that would carry her with a magical swiftness over the green fields to The Hall.
When they reached it, there would be no Lord and Lady Walmer nor a fascinating Duke or Marquis who would invite her in to meet his friends.
They would be very elegant fashionable and amusing people who would cap each other’s stories and witticisms with a sophistication that would make the conversation glitter like a constellation of stars.
This was one of Odetta’s favourite daydreams, mostly because at least two or three times a week she rode Snowball from the Vicarage to The Hall.
It was no use resenting th
