"A motor-car!" said Mrs. Inglefield, clapping her hands.
Then Noel entered, galloping up and down and whinnying so loud that Mrs. Inglefield called out very quickly:
"A horse!"
And then he and Chris stood together and recited the following poem:
CHRIS. "I shriek and everybody flies!
I tear along beneath the skies,
I stop as quickly, for I feel
My master's hand upon the wheel."
NOEL. "I trot along the hard high road,
To journey slowly is my mode.
We want to see, to feel, to smile,
To scent the beauty of each mile."
CHRIS. "Past meadows, villages I fly,
No time to see as I go by!
The wind, the air is all I feel,
Beside the hand upon the wheel."
NOEL. "My master's hand is on my rein,
His eyes are in the country lane.
I canter on up hill, down dale,
Through grassy fields and lovely vale."
CHRIS. "I scorch up hills, I fly along,
My warning 'honk' is all my song.
Towns, rivers, sea, all pass away.
A hundred miles we do each day."
NOEL. "But cars can't hunt, or ride at will
Through woods, or up untrodden hill,
Nor soak their souls in beauty fair,
That's only done through my brown mare."
[CHAPTER V]
Lesson Days
"Splendid!" cried Mrs. Inglefield enthusiastically, applauding with her feet and hands. "May I ask who is the author of that poem?"
"Ted wrote it," said Diana. "He said it to me when I went over to see him, so I made him write it down, and Chris and Noel have been learning it as fast as they could all the afternoon."
"I think you are all extremely clever," said Mrs. Inglefield. "I am quite proud of you."