"In a week or so, yes, Leila," said Penhallow, "not now."
There were two stable-boys waiting and a pony long retired on grassy pension. "Now," said Penhallow, "put a foot on my knee and up you go."
"But, there's no saddle."
"There are two. The Lord of horses put one on the back of a horse and another under a man. Up! sir." John got on. "Grip him with your legs, hold on to the mane if you like, but not by the reins." The pony feeling no urgency to move stood still and nibbled the young grass. A smart tap of the Squire's whip started him, and John rolled off.
"Come, sir, get on." The boys from the stable grinned. John set his teeth. "Don't stiffen yourself. That's better."
He fell once again, and at the close of an hour his uncle said, "There that will do for to-day, and not so bad either."
"I'd like to try it again, sir," gasped John.
"You young humbug," laughed Penhallow. "Go and console your distracted aunt. I am off to the mills."
The ex-captain was merciless enough, and day after day John was so stiff that, as he confessed to Leila, a jointed doll was a trifle to his condition. She laughed, "I went through it once, but one day it came."
"What came, Leila?"