But now that I have finished all that I have to tell about the old Scourings, (at least all that I expect any body will read,) I must go back again to the kitchen on the night of the 16th of September, 1857. Joe, who, as I said, was half asleep while I was reading, soon waked up afterwards, though it was past eleven o’clock, and began to settle how we were to go up the hill the next morning.
“Now I shall ride the chestnut up early,” said he, “’cause I may be wanted to help the Squire and the rest, but it don’t matter for the rest of you. I’ll have a saddle put on my old brown horse, and he’ll be quiet enough, for he has been at harvest work, and the four-wheel must come up with Lu somehow. Will you ride or drive, Sir?” said he, turning to the Parson.
“Oh, I don’t mind; whichever is most convenient,” said Mr. Warton.
“Did’st ever drive in thy life, Dick?” said Joe to me.
I was very near saying “yes,” for I felt ashamed of not being able to do what they could; however, I told the truth, and said “no;” and next minute I was very glad I had, for, besides the shame of telling a lie, how much worse it would have been to be found out by Miss Lucy in the morning, or to have had an upset or some accident.
So it was settled that Mr. Warton should drive the four-wheel, and that I should ride the old horse. I didn’t think it necessary to say that I had never ridden any thing but the donkeys on Hampstead Heath, and the elephant in the Zoological Gardens. And so, when all was settled, we went to bed.
[25] “Sprack,”—sprightly.
[26] “Draw cuts,”—to draw lots.
[27] This hand-bill was kindly given me by H. Godwin, Esq., of Newbury.