“Goodness me! Wonders will never cease, I own a vicar now—you know I was bundled off to a Repository after I had thrown Lord Jim.”
“He’s here.”
“Never!”
“But he is, sir! Here he comes riding that limping crocodile of a nag—don’t think he is benefited by the change—do you, Lele?” But before Lele could answer Lord Jim had discovered his late horse. He made up to the vicar as they were going home.
“Excuse me, sir,” he began, and then, “allow me to congratulate you on your horse.”
“What, another!” said the vicar.
“I have just sold him.”
“That accounts for my possession—fact is I have just bought him.”
And then it all came out—Lord Jim repented parting with Lele, and although the good vicar said nothing, he thought, “Well, he’s certainly a bargain, but my parish will miss me if, every time I want a little trot out, my horse takes it into his head to follow the hounds.”
And how it came about I cannot tell you, children, but before the vicar got home he decided to let Lord Jim have his favourite back again.