"How did you ever do it, Turly?"
"How did you do it?" said Turly. "Of course I just walked into the stable and looked about for a horse. I tried to sit on them all, but I couldn't, for they were too wide. Then I spied the donkey. There was no saddle for him, so I took him as he was. And how did you like Connolly's farm, Terry? And is this Connolly?"
"Oh dear no, Turly! This is Mr. Reilly. Jocko and I were lost in the fog, and we didn't get at all near Connolly's. And Mr. Reilly found us and got me some eggs. But oh, Turly, poor Jocko's knees are cut, for he slipped in the frost and I let him down."
"Never mind! They'll come all right again," said Turly. "Lally will look after him."
"We may as well hurry up then," said Reilly, "if I'm ever to get on the road again with my load of turf."
Then they began to move on again, the cart with Terry and Reilly, and Turly riding the bare-backed donkey behind, side by side with Jocko, who seemed very glad of their company.
As they turned off the high-road they saw Nurse Nancy standing at the foot of the avenue, evidently looking out for them in great anxiety. The cart stopped before her.
"Oh, you terrible childher! You dreadful little girl! I wonder I am alive since six o'clock this morning!"
"You were sound asleep then, Nursey. I heard you snoring. And you won't call it dreadful when you see the eggs. The only terrible thing is Jocko's knees. I'm awfully sorry about that, indeed I am. I'd rather it had been my own knees!" cried Terry, running to the back of the cart to examine poor Jocko's injuries.
"The pony's knees!" shrieked Nurse, throwing up her hands and her eyes in despair.