Next day Archie swept down upon the Cockney in fine form, meaning to impress him.
The Cockney was not much impressed; I fear he was not very impressionable.
“My heye, Johnnie Raw,” he roared, “vere did yer steal the moke?”
“Look you here, young Whitechapel, you’ll have to guard that tongue of yours a little, else communications will be cut. Do you see?”
“It is a donkey, ain’t it, Johnnie?”
“Come on to the field and have a ride.”
Five minutes afterwards the young Cockney on the “Eider Duck’s” back was tearing along the field at railway speed. John Gilpin’s ride was nothing to it, nor Tam O’Shanter’s on his grey mare, Meg! Both these worthies had stuck to the saddle, but this horseman rode upon the neck of the steed. Scallowa stopped short at the gate, but the boy flew over.
Archie found his friend rubbing himself, and looking very serious, and he felt happier now.
“Call that ’ere donkey a heider duck? H’m? I allers thought heider ducks was soft!