She put her nose up to him in a friendly, trustful way,while he rubbed it gently.

"We shall make a cure of her, John," he said.

"Yes, sir, she's wonderfully improved; she's not the same creaturethat she was; it's `the Birtwick balls', sir," exclaimed Harold, laughing.

This was a little joke of John's; he used to say that a regular courseof "the Birtwick horseballs" would cure almost any vicious horse;these balls, he exclaimed, were made up of patience and gentleness,firmness and petting, one pound of each to be mixed up with half a pintof common sense, and given to the horse every day.