'At what sort of things does he shy?'
Tim answered this question for himself, by shying violently at a dark shadow that fell across the road.
'Ah! he is nervous, Sambo did that at first. You see he was a town donkey also, and when carts and shadows suddenly came upon him in a quiet lane he was afraid of them. Now he is used to them!'
'And when he bolts, Frank?'
'Don't give him so much to eat, Mrs. Raeburn. Stop that, Tim.' Tim had taken advantage of the conversation to try and get a bite of grass from the side of the road. 'Stones again, Harry,' and Harry, only too glad to feel that he was assisting in the driving, rattled the stones gaily, laughing and chattering with delight.
Away went Tim again, and Mrs. Raeburn's spirits rose. 'Why, he goes beautifully with you, Frank.'
'There is no trick about it, Mrs. Raeburn; only he has evidently been accustomed to stones, and won't stand a whip. We heard how he smashed up Mrs. Wood's gate! If you had had stones he would have been all right.'
They reached home safely, Harry greatly pleased with the new method of donkey-driving. Tim remained in his new home, and although there are days when Mary wishes that he were not so clever, and Simmons mutters that he is more trouble than he is worth, yet they all get to love him.
