“Now, then, Harry, my boy, open the gates, and mother will bring us the lantern.”
The next minute they were all standing round me in a small stable-yard.
“Is he gentle, father?”
“Yes, Dolly, as gentle as your own kitten; come and pat him.”
At once the little hand was patting about all over my shoulder without fear. How good it felt!
“Let me get him a bran mash while you rub him down,” said the mother.
“Do, Polly, it’s just what he wants; and I know you’ve got a beautiful mash ready for me.”
“Sausage dumpling and apple turnover!” shouted the boy, which set them all laughing. I was led into a comfortable, clean-smelling stall, with plenty of dry straw, and after a capital supper I lay down, thinking I was going to be happy.