Chapter Four.
The Wooden Bottle.
“Gee, Diamond! Now, Captain!” cried Margaret, imitating the gruff voice of the carter. Crack! The long-knotted lash of the waggon-whip, bound about the handle with brazen rings, whistled in the air and curled up with a vicious snap. She was in one of her wild impulsive moods. Away trotted the two huge carthorses, the harness merrily jingling and the waggon jolting. Jabez the shepherd could hardly keep pace with it, running beside the leader, Diamond. Margaret and May were riding. Crack! Crack!
“Aw, doan’t ’ee now—doan’t ’ee, miss!” panted the shepherd. “Us ull go right drough th’ winder! Whoa!”
For they were steering straight for the great window at Greene Ferne that opened on the lawn. It was wide open that beautiful midsummer morning.
“What are those children doing?” said Mrs Estcourt, in some alarm. “Why, they have harnessed the horses!”
Valentine, Geoffrey, and Felix, who were there, crowded to the window.
“Whoa, Diamond! Captain, whoa!” cried Margaret, bringing up her convoy on the lawn in fine style. “Now, mamma dear, jump up! We’re all going haymaking, as the men won’t.”