"If he only knew how much I wanted to go, he would have said 'yes,'" thought Georg. "Father nearly always lets me do things when I ask him. He really didn't hear what I said,—didn't hear inside him, I mean,—or he would have taken me. I'll go! I'll go anyway, and when I get there father will be sure to let me stay."
Fired with this determination, Georg set off, running nimbly behind the carriage, taking pains all the while to keep out of the surgeon's sight.
Although Mummer was not very fleet as horses go, she jogged steadily along, and the boy, following close behind the carriage, began to wonder why she never stopped to catch her breath and cool herself. Up and down hill, over bridges, through strips of forest, went horse, carriage, and boy; and, as the sun blazed down, and the road grew dusty to choking, the last one of the procession became so hot and breathless that he feared he must stop or die.
At twelve o'clock the carriage drew up before a roadside inn; and when the hostler came to take charge of Mummer, Mr. Händel opened the door and stepped out upon the flower-bordered driveway.
The flash of a silver hat-cord seemed to twinkle before his eyes, and seized with a sharp suspicion, the old gentleman strode quickly round to the back of the carriage only to see a pair of small black legs disappearing under the vehicle.
"Georg!" he ejaculated. "Come out, instantly! What are you doing here?"
A dusty, sheepish boy crawled slowly into sight, murmuring confusedly as he rose,—
"I knew you'd let me go if you thought about it, so I came—"