“I can jump down, dad,” cried the occupant of the seat. “Now, Syd, catch me; look out!”
The boy’s intentions were admirable, and the young lady light; but, as Mark afterwards said to Jane, with a chuckle, when he knew all, “Master Syd wasn’t up to her weight.” For, as the young wife alighted, she was caught, but the catcher staggered back, and would have fallen but for the lady’s agility, for she not only saved herself but clung to the boy’s hands, so that he only sat down on the steps.
“Houp-la!” she cried, striking a little attitude.
“Hullo! Hurt?” growled Simpkins.
“No, he’s all right, dad. Ain’t you, Syd dear?”
“Hurt, no,” cried the boy. “But those stones are hard. Come along in.”
“Wait a moment, my gal,” growled the trainer, and he drew his child aside.
“What’s the matter, dad?”
“Nothing. I’m going round to see the mare put up and fed. I shall be in directly. But look here, don’t you commit yourself before I come.”
“Who’s going to?” said the girl, merrily, as she seemed to take the nocturnal excursion as a capital bit of fun.