"All right."
This was what Dick wanted, for he had a plan for revenging himself on his upstart nephew. He drove on till he got to a place where there was a muddy and miry puddle beside the road. Then by a dexterous manœuver, for he understood driving thoroughly, he managed to overturn the wagon, and Nicholas was thrown headlong into the puddle. Dick leaped out just at the right time, retaining his hold on the reins.
Bespattered with mud and drenched with mire, Nicholas arose from the puddle a sorry figure.
"What did you do that for?" he demanded, wrathfully, surveying himself with disgust.
"I'm afraid I can't manage your horse," said Dick, with hypocritical meekness. "He was too much for me."
"Didn't I tell you so?" said Nicholas, triumphing in spite of his woful condition.
"I'm sorry you fell into the puddle. Why didn't you jump, as I did?"
"I didn't have time," said Nicholas, ruefully. "What a figure I am!"
"I suppose we may as well go home."
"Yes," said Nicholas, sullenly. "That comes of giving you the reins."