There was no need to tell Jenny that. Fast and faster she trotted. By-and-by her master pulled her up, descended, and lit the lamps of the market cart. A minute later they were off again.
"I didn't know a donkey could go so well!" cried Billy, who was enjoying this new experience exceedingly.
"She's thinking of her supper," laughed his grandfather. "She'll have a good feed as soon as she gets home, and she knows it. Are you keeping warm, my boy?"
"Oh, yes, indeed, Grandfather! And I don't mind the rain at all! It's so soft! And so's the wind! Have we much further to go?"
"No. If it wasn't so misty and nearly dark you'd be able to have a good view of the Teign Valley from here. Ashleigh's in the Teign Valley, you know; but my little place—Rowley Cottage—is a mile and a half from Ashleigh Station. We shall soon be home now."
Ten minutes or so later the donkey came to a sudden stop before a field-gate in a narrow road.
"Here we are!" William Brown said, getting down and opening the gate; whereupon Jenny passed through the gateway, and began the descent of a hill.
"Stay where you are!" he commanded. "I'm going to lead Jenny down—there's a cart track through the field by the hedge which leads right into our yard. Hold tight!"
Billy, who was secretly rather nervous, did hold tight. Daylight had quite failed now, but, looking far down into what seemed dense darkness, he saw a light. As the market cart proceeded, every now and again jolting over a stone, he held his breath, fearing that it would upset or that Jenny would stumble and fall. But no accident happened. The yard was reached in safety, and the donkey came to a standstill before an open door through which a light was shining from the kitchen within.
"Here we are!" cried William Brown. "Now then, Billy, my boy!" He lifted his grandson down from the market cart, and turned to pat a sheep dog which had come out of the house.