“What horse did you ride?”
“My own pony, Prince.”
“Did you meet Dick exercising the horses?”
“No; I didn’t see anything of him.”
“That is strange. Where were you riding to?”
“I was off on a little business beyond the moor.”
“Beyond the moor! what can you have been wanting beyond the moor?”
Amos turned red and did not reply.
“I don’t know what has come to the boy,” said the squire surlily. But now Walter, who had not uttered a word hitherto, broke in suddenly, “Father, you mustn’t be hard upon Dick. It’s a misfortune, after all. There isn’t a better rider anywhere; only accidents will happen sometimes, as you know they did the other night. Forester bolted when the little girl’s red cloak blew off and flapped right on to his eyes. Dick was not expecting it, and tried to keep the horses in; but Forester sprang right through a hedge and staked himself before Dick could pull him in. It’s a mercy, I think, that Dick hadn’t his neck broke.”
He said these last words slowly and reluctantly, for his eye had rested on his aunt’s hands, which were being laid quietly one across the other on the table in front of her.