“Goodness me! Wonders will never cease, I own a vicar now—you know I was bundled off to a Repository after I had thrown Lord Jim.”
“But he is, sir! Here he comes riding that limping crocodile of a nag—don’t think he is benefited by the change—do you, Lele?” But before Lele could answer Lord Jim had discovered his late horse. He made up to the vicar as they were going home.
“Excuse me, sir,” he began, and then, “allow me to congratulate you on your horse.”
“That accounts for my possession—fact is I have just bought him.”
And then it all came out—Lord Jim repented parting with Lele, and although the good vicar said nothing, he thought, “Well, he’s certainly a bargain, but my parish will miss me if, every time I want a little trot out, my horse takes it into his head to follow the hounds.”
And how it came about I cannot tell you, children, but before the vicar got home he decided to let Lord Jim have his favourite back again.
“I repented it directly after. But you do look so stupid being thrown in the hunting field—it was the first time, you know.”
The vicar nodded—and Mrs. Grey chuckled when he came home, safe but very much shaken.
“It was a clear walk over that,” mused Lele as he crunched the well-grown oats in Lord Jim’s stables that night. “I never met my match till his reverence mounted me—I might have behaved ugly, but I’m pleased to think I didn’t throw the old gentleman. There’s ever so many runs in prospect, you say?”
“And I’m entered for next Spring steeplechases, so Tally ho! But I know—I’ll never throw Lord Jim again!”
Simon lay on the grass, thinking. He flicked a fly that was tickling. Although he was a most worthy horse, he was often troubled with very grand notions about himself and very poor thoughts concerning his neighbours.
Day had not yet begun at Tower Tighe Farm. The stars had faded away, and the great warm sun was waking up the nestlings, waking them up to cry for food, and disturb folk generally, for everything was very quiet and still at Tower Tighe.
The owner, John Fairfax, was a spare man, very thin, with a grey straggly beard, and bright blue eyes. He possessed fierce-looking brows, and a very long nose. His wife was a fat little lady, who bustled about a great deal, and went round the farm saying kind things to everybody, and to Tony the fox-terrier in particular, for Tony was a thorough little scamp. He told old Simon one day, that missis was a deary, and behaved fine when she wasn’t walking. Then she was just like a lop-sided hour glass, so fat all round—save at the waist, which was thin, and she wobbled like a tee-totum.