“Then I went through my lesson well?” I said.
“Splendidly, boy, splendidly. Couldn’t have done better. Now, trot the nag down home. Stop, you shall have the stirrups.”
“No, not to-day, Lomax,” I said. “I’ve got an—an engagement to keep. Please take him down yourself.”
“Right. I will. Hah! we’ve been longer than I thought, for the boys are coming out of school. Then down you come, and good morning.”
I leaped off the horse, not feeling a bit stiff. Lomax replaced the stirrups, mounted, and went off again in the upright, steady way I had before admired, while I stood there listening to the shouting of the boys, and thinking of the thrashing I was bound to receive.
Chapter Eighteen.
I had not been standing in the field many minutes, shut in by the hedge, and trying to rouse myself to go, before I heard a familiar voice calling me, and I answered with a feeling of relief, for anything was better than that sensation of shrinking expectancy, and, drawing a deep breath, I prepared myself for the plunge.
“Oh, here you are!” cried Mercer, running up to me excitedly. “I say, here’s a go! You’ve got to come up into the loft directly.”