"I'm sure you are," Dick said. "Jolly good of you to let me ride him."
Across the grass Mr. Warner had suddenly gaped in astonishment.
"Well, I'm blessed!" he ejaculated to his wife. "I believe Merle is repenting in style; she's actually put Dick on Olaf. That's in amends for the ride he might have had on old Sergeant, I suppose!"
"Making amends isn't much in Merle's line," said Merle's mother.
"No, so I suppose we should be thankful for any sign of grace. At least, they seem happy enough now—look at them!"
Two small figures on galloping horses dipped down into a grassy hollow, flashed up again on the further side, made for a big log ahead, flew it together, and fled on again across the plain at full speed.
"That's all right," said Mrs. Warner, comfortably. "They can't possibly be bad friends now."
"No. But isn't it characteristic of Merle that although even the fact that he'd saved Bobby's life didn't make her treat him decently, she's reduced to penitence and friendliness by nearly giving him a ride on a bad horse!"