"No, she isn't as good. She's no fun at all. A gipsy would dance and tell fortunes. Do you know what I think I'll do after Christmas?"
"No; tell me."
"I'll ride off one morning to London and find Dawn. I heard the Squire say this morning it's only thirty miles, and if my pony is a good one, he ought to do that!"
Christina gasped at the very idea.
"You would never get to London," she said; "you'd lose your way, and your pony would be too tired to go on!"
"Ah," retorted Puggy, "you don't know what I can do if I choose! And if you weren't a duffer, you'd ride off with me."
Christina shook her head.
"I could never ride to London; I should fall off my pony again and again. I know I shall fall when I have to ride alone. He shakes me up and down so!"
"You're no good at all."
Christina accepted this statement meekly. She was always hearing it from Puggy's lips and believed it.