“William,” said he, “how long have you had this horse?”
“About two years,” said Mr. Podington; “before I got him, I used to drive a pair.”
“Heavens!” thought Buller, “how lucky I was not to come two years ago!” And his regrets for not sooner visiting his friend greatly decreased.
Now they came to a place where the stream, by which the road ran, had been dammed for a mill and had widened into a beautiful pond.
“There now!” cried Mr. Buller. “That’s what I like. William, you seem to have everything! This is really a very pretty sheet of water, and the reflections of the trees over there make a charming picture; you can’t get that at the seaside, you know.”
Mr. Podington was delighted; his face glowed; he was rejoiced at the pleasure of his friend. “I tell you, Thomas,” said he, “that——”
“William!” exclaimed Buller, with a sudden squirm in his seat, “what is that I hear? Is that a train?”
“Yes,” said Mr. Podington, “that is the ten-forty, up.”
“Does it come near here?” asked Mr. Buller, nervously. “Does it go over that bridge?”
“Yes,” said Podington, “but it can’t hurt us, for our road goes under the bridge; we are perfectly safe; there is no risk of accident.”