"Sure you'll be all right?"
"Oh, yes. I'll be a horse, you see. Just say 'gee up!' will you?"
"Gee up!" said Egbert.
"Stead-ey!" cried Percival, prancing. "Stead-ey! Goodnight!" and bounded off.
"Nice little f'ler," commented Egbert; and hurried back to the vegules.
Where the lane turned to the village, horse Percival was made, as he declared, to shy dreff'ly. He galloped almost into the arms of two figures that stepped suddenly out of the dusk. "Oh, Percival!" Aunt Maggie cried and kissed him. "Oh, Percival, where have you been?"
"Say 'whoa!" cried Percival. "Say 'whoa!' Aunt Maggie. I'm a horse—a white one, you know."
Two heavy hands pressed the white horse's shoulders, stilling its plunges. "You're a bad little boy, that's what you are," Honor exclaimed, "running off and frightening your Auntie, and not caring nor minding. Don't Care comes before a fall, as I've told you many times and—"
"Pride comes before a fall," corrected Percival. "You've got it wrong again, Honor," and Honor's flow was checked with the suddenness that had become the established termination of attempts to reprove Percival since he had learnt the right phrasing of her store of confused maxims.
She took his hand while she pondered doubtfully upon the correction, and with Aunt Maggie holding the other, he skipped along, bubbling over with his adventures. "I've got bandages on both my legs, Aunt Maggie—oh, and Hunt has got one of his legs in the grave, just fancy that! I've been having tea with Rollo; and Lady Burdon put on these bandages and she wants me to go and play with Rollo every day. Do let me, Aunt Maggie. I say, you are squeezing my hand most dreffly, you know."