'The hunt is up, the hunt is up,
And it is well-nigh day;—'
try it, Bess!"
"Hunt is up, hunt is up," said the small rider; but she was occupied with the reins, and clearly did not want to be bothered.
"No, no, that is not singing, little goose. Why, sing it like this, now:
'The hunt is up, the hunt is up,
And it is well-nigh day;—
And Harry our king is gone hunting
To bring his deer to bay!'"
However, the music lesson came to an abrupt end. They had by this time almost reached the summer-house. Saturnine Matthew, gardener, who still stood there, blocking up the doorway, had not heard them approach, but his master within had. The next instant goodman Matthew suddenly found himself discarded, dismissed, and treated, indeed, as if he were simply non-existent in the world; for Judith's father, having paused for a moment to regard from the doorway the pretty pageant that had been arranged for him (and his face lit up, as it were, with pleasure at the sight), was the next minute down beside his little granddaughter, with one knee on the ground, so that he was just on a level with her outstretched hands.
"What, Bess?" he said, as he caught her by both hands and feet. "You imp, you inch, you elfin queen, you!—would you go a-hunting, then?"
"Send away Don—me want to ride the high horse," said the small Bess, who had her own ideas as to what was most comfortable, and also secure.
"And so you shall, you sprite, you Ariel, you moonlight wonder!" he exclaimed, as he perched her on his shoulder and rose to his feet again. "The high horse, truly; indeed, you shall ride the high horse! Come, now, we will go see how the King's mulberry thrives; that is the only tree we have that is younger than yourself, you ancient, you beldame, you witch of Endor, you!"
"Father," said Judith, seeing that he was going away perfectly regardless of anybody or anything except his granddaughter, "may I take the Don with me for an hour or so?"