“Oh, no. I had set out with Dick, but John came after all.”
“Then his refusal to ride my horse does not come to much. It is a small thing to have good impulses, if temptation is too much for them.”
“But I haven't done telling you, uncle!”
“I am hasty, little one. I beg your pardon.”
“I have to tell you what made him give in to riding your horse. I confessed I was a little anxious lest Death, who had not been exercised for some days, should be too much for Dick. John said then he thought he might venture, for you had once spoken very kindly to him of the way he handled his own horse.”
“Oh, that's the young fellow, is it!” cried my uncle, in a tone that could not be taken for other than one of pleasure. “That's the fellow, is it?” he repeated. “H'm!”
“I hope you liked the look of him, uncle!” I said.
“The boy is a gentleman anyhow!” he answered.—“You may think whether I was pleased!—I never saw man carry himself better horseward!” he added with a smile.
“Then you won't object to his riding Death home again?”
“Not in the least!” he replied. “The man can ride.”