"We want a pony. We've never had anything to ride since poor old Tommy died."
They were clattering down the stairs again. "You want--you want--you want everything," said Dick. "You'll want a four-in-hand next. I don't know whether you want a pig-stye, by any chance. I'll give you this one if you do--ridiculous place to put it! This is where we'll build the game larder. Come on, Twankies, we'll go and look up old Aunt Laura. I want to see what she's taken away from here."
He set off at a smart pace, the twins on either side of him. "I don't know why _you_ want to go putting your oar in about the pony," said Nancy. "I was to tackle father about that."
"Tackle father!" repeated Dick. "Look here! that's not the way to talk about the governor, Nancy."
"Oh, Dick darling, don't call me Nancy. I feel that I'm trembling under the weight of your displeasure."
Joan hastened to her relief. "When she said 'tackle,' she only meant that I betted her four weeks' pocket-money that father wouldn't let us have a pony," she said.
"You mean well, but you've done it now," said Nancy.
"Really, it's about time that you two had somebody to look after you," said Dick. "Who on earth taught you to bet, I should like to know?"
"Humphrey," replied Nancy promptly. "We were standing by him, and he betted us a shilling each that he would bring down the next bird that came over. He didn't, and he paid up promptly."
"We wanted him to bet again, but he refused," said Joan.
"But it gave us a taste for speculation which we shall probably never overcome," said Nancy.
Dick grunted. "Humphrey oughtn't to have done it," he said. "You are not to bet with each other, you two. And that bet about the pony--which was infernal cheek to make, anyhow--is off. Do you hear?"
"Yes, Dick dear," said Joan obediently. "But what does a bet being 'off' mean, exactly?"
"Is it the same as hedging?" asked Nancy.
"It means--well, it means it's off. You know what it means as well as I do. And I don't like your arranging with each other to get things out of the governor, either--or anybody else. You get plenty given you, and it isn't nice for girls of your age to be always on the make."
"But, Dick darling," expostulated Joan, "there are such lots of horses about the place. I think we might be allowed to ride now. Of course, we didn't mean a pony, really. We are big enough to stick on a horse, and father wouldn't have to buy another one for us."