“All did go well; Miss Pringle—I really don’t like calling her the Jackdaw now she’s dead and gone—soon found I was handy, and as she disliked the smell of stables, she gave up pecking round there after the first day or two. So Nelly brought round Mag by the back way through the fields, and I hung up his cage in the hayloft, by the window looking away from the house and garden.
“And now my story really begins,” he went on; “and I’d be glad if you’d give me a flick with the whip now and again, for I’m as bad as my old mare at a jog-trot.
“I settled down into my place with a good heart, and soon got fond of the pony. Mag, up in the hayloft, escaped Miss Pringle’s notice, and though the cook found him out, she was a good-natured body and held her tongue. Nelly paid me many visits, stealing round to my stable by the fields; and she made the gap in our hedge so much bigger that once, in the Jackdaw’s absence, both she and Mag had a ride on the pony in the paddock.
“Mag grew to be nearly a year old, and the cleverest bird you ever saw; I had hard work to keep him in his wicker cage, for he was always pulling away at the door-fastening with his bill. One warm morning in spring I was sent for to take Miss Pringle’s orders, and found her sitting at her desk in her parlour, with the window open, and the garden scents coming into the room. I stood on the matting as usual while she wrote a note. She then gave it to me, and told me to take it to a village three miles away, but first to get the carriage ready, as she was going for a drive, and should be away all the morning. She was very gracious, and less tight about the lips than usual, I fancied.
“‘If I am not back after your dinner, John,’ she said, ‘come and tidy up this bed under the window, for I shall have to sow my annuals soon.’
“I got the pony ready, and off she went, holding the reins and whip as if ponies were almost as unruly animals as boys. Then I started for my walk, delivered the note, and turned homewards by a field-path to try for a look at the hounds, for they had met that day near our village. I missed them, however; but on getting over a stile I saw a gentleman in scarlet trying to catch his horse. He had been thrown, and his horse was having a fine time of it; grazing quietly till his master was within a yard or two of him, and then throwing up his heels and scampering off. Of course I joined in the chase, for I was pretty well used to these tricks from our pony; and the gentleman, who was out of breath, sat down and watched me. It was a long job, but at last I pinned him in a corner, and brought him, well pleased, to his master, who praised me kindly, and put his hand in his pocket as he mounted.
“He had only a sovereign, which seemed to puzzle him. First he put it back again, and was beginning to tell me to ‘come over to his place and I should have half-a-crown.’
“‘But it’s far,’ he said, ‘and I’m off to London to-night. I can trust you, can’t I?’ he added, turning a pair of very pleasant blue eyes on me. ‘Whom do you work for?’
“‘Miss Pringle at Cotteswell,’ I answered, touching my hat.
“‘Very well,’ he said; ‘you take the sovereign and get it changed, and I’ll send my groom over for the change to-morrow.’