So poor Peter had to give in.
They spent a very busy afternoon, but next morning the caravan was brought to the door, the brass work on Don’s new harness being polished till it looked like gold. Effie sprang lightly in, Ossian, the big deerhound, who stood nearly as high as Don, went capering about, for he was to be one of the party.
Up jumped Leonard. Crack went his whip, and off they all were in a hand-clap.
And poor old Peter fell on his knees and prayed for their safety, till on a turn of the road the woods seemed to swallow them up.
“Now we’re free! It’s glorious, isn’t it, Effie?”
“It’s delightful.”
“Aren’t you glad you’ve come?”
“Yes, aren’t you?”
“Yes. Which way shall we go?”
