Iylaine decides to be alone

“Wulsy, I got a splinter,” Iylaine whimpered, holding out her hand to the groom.

“What were you doing?” he asked. “Climbing around the loft? Let me see.”

“I was only looking for kittens,” she said.

“The only kittens we have now are too young for to be playing with little girls,” Wulsy said as he examined her palm. “That’s a big one, Baby. Why don’t you just pull it out with your teeth?”

“Oh, Wulsy!”

She liked Wulsy. He was the only groom she really liked. The others didn’t want her around the horses – there was not a thrown shoe nor a colic nor a saddle sore that was not blamed on her evil eye. But Wulsy knew that she had a way with horses, as he said. The horses loved her as they loved few men. “Must like your pointed ears,” he always said.

And she felt an extra tenderness for Wulsy at the moment, because Wulsy’s wife had died of the fever. Iylaine did not think Wulsy’s wife was worth any tears, but Wulsy was sad about it. She hoped he would come to see, as her Da had, that most of the women weren’t worth the trouble.

“That’s that,” he said.

“Oh, I didn’t even feel it.”

“Hallo,” Bertie said suddenly from beside her.

“Oh, hallo Bertie,” she said.

“Hallo young Bertie! Shall I saddle Bacchus for you,” Wulsy teased, “or were you thinking of taking Apollo out today?”

“Ha ha ha,” Bertie said.

“What’s this?” Wulsy asked, pointing at the bunch of pink flowers Bertie clutched in one brown paw. “Flowers for your sweetheart? Eh, Baby?”

“No, these are for my Ma,” Bertie said. “But do you want some, Baby?” he asked politely.

“No,” she sniffed. “I don’t like flowers that much.” More to the point, she knew that she would never hear the end of it if Malcolm ever found out she had accepted flowers from Bertie. And she knew that Wulsy would not hesitate to inform Malcolm.

“Where did you find flowers already?” Wulsy asked. “Oh, wait – I suppose it’s the first day of spring today, isn’t it?”

“It is?” Iylaine asked, suddenly interested.

“There’s some back in the pine grove over there,” Bertie said, pointing up the hill behind the stable. “I guess my Ma will like ‘em.”

“You give my greetings to your Ma, Bertie,” Wulsy said. “I guess I should get up to see her some time.”

“I will. You want to come, Baby? I can give you half the flowers to give her.”

“No, I guess not,” she said. What she wanted suddenly was to be alone. “But you can kiss her for me though.”

“All right,” he shrugged.