“And let me drive,” added Christopher.
And Mrs. Hartwell-Jones really did mean to buy the ponies. She asked grandfather to attend to the matter for her when he returned to the circus grounds to see about his own business; for grandfather had about decided to buy one or two of Mr. Drake’s horses for work on the farm. But Mr. Baker was too businesslike to buy without being sure of the sort of horse he was getting, and arranged with Joshua to have Mr. Drake drive or ride out such horses as grandfather thought of getting, together with the Shetland ponies, to Sunnycrest, for Joshua’s inspection and judgment.
The twins were in a whirl to get started and gave grandfather no peace until the phaeton—a low, wide-seated vehicle with plenty of room for three on the seat when two of them were only nine—was brought round. There was an instant scramble for the outside place and a quarrel threatened; but grandfather settled the whole matter by saying quietly:
“Ladies first, Kit, my boy. Janey shall have the outside place for the first half of the way.”
They started off in high spirits, Jane quiet and absorbed, bending enough to watch the revolving wheel crunch the bits of dust and dry clay, lost in her own happy thoughts or listening to Christopher’s chatter and storing up bits of knowledge. Christopher’s tongue was not quiet a moment and he asked question after question.
It had always been like that with the twins from the time they had learned to talk. Jane seldom asked questions, but Christopher must know the meaning of everything that came to his notice. Not that Jane was stupid because she did not ask questions. She generally listened to Christopher’s continual “why” and learned from the answers given to him. And very often she would speak out unexpectedly some piece of information that surprised every one. Indeed, an uncle of the twins had once said:
“Kit talks the most, but Jane says the most.”
“See that squirrel running across the road?” said grandfather. “Did you see him, Janey? A pretty red one.”
“I could have shot him, if I’d had a gun,” boasted Christopher.
“Oh, Kit, that would have been mean! He wasn’t doing any one any harm.”