Welland laughed rather sarcastically at this, but made no rejoinder, and Sam, who could not stand being laughed at, said—
“Well, come, I’ll go in for one glass. I’ll be my own doctor, and prescribe it medicinally! Besides, it’s an exceptional occasion this, for it is awfully hot.”
“It’s about the best run I ever had in the same space of time,” said Welland on quitting the beer shop.
“First-rate,” returned Sam, “I wish my old dad could ride with us. He would enjoy it so.”
“Couldn’t we bring him out on a horse? He could ride that, I suppose?”
“Never saw him on a horse but once,” said Sam, “and that time he fell off. But it’s worth suggesting to him.”
“Better if he got a tricycle,” said Welland.
“I don’t think that would do, for he’s too old for long rides, and too short-winded. Now, Stephen, I’m not going to run down this hill. We must take it easy, for it’s far too steep.”
“Nonsense, man, it’s nothing to speak of; see, I’ll go first and show you the way.”
He gave the treadle a thrust that sent him off like an arrow from a bow.