They had reached the Hall at last, and were taken round to the stable.
Bob took it all in at a glance. “Snowie,” he said, in an awed voice, “Snowie, we’re going to retire here.” Presently the sound of children’s voices burst upon them.
“Oh! David, you have brought the ponies. Father, they have come. We have been looking for you for an hour at least. What beauties! Which is for me, father?” cried Lawrence.
“And me, father,” cried Betty.
“The brown pony is for you, my child, and Lawrence is to have the white one. So you like them, my dears?”
“Like them? Oh, we love them, father! Wherever did you find such treasures? Thanks, thanks, a thousand times thanks, you dear kind father.” And the children threw their arms around his neck and kissed him again most heartily.
“There now, that is all right,” said Squire Morton, putting his collar straight. “Now mount. Never mind a saddle. David shall come and show your mother how you can ride your new possessions.”
And leaping upon their backs Lawrence and Betty trotted away, using the primitive reins that hung loosely round their ponies’ necks, and behaving like experienced equestrians.
“See, mother, what a lovely little creature mine is,” cried Betty.
“And mine,” cried Lawrence. “She is as white as milk and her name is Snowie.”