ding of the
wains, as they creaked slowly through the fields, the horses seeming to
enjoy the work, among their fragrant provender, as much as the human
kind. When five o'clock struck, Harold gave no signs of quitting the
scene of action; and Mrs. King, in much anxiety lest the letters should
be late, sent Helen to get the pony ready, while she herself went into
the field to call the boy.

Very unwilling he was to come--he shook his shoulders, and growled and
grumbled, and said he should be in plenty of time, and he wished the post
was at the bottom of the sea. Nothing but his mother's orders and the
necessity of the case could have made him go at all. At last he walked
off, as if he had lead in his feet, muttering that he wished he had not
some one to be always after him. Mrs. King looked at the grimy face of
his disreputable-looking companion, and wondered whether he had put such
things into his head.

Very cross was Harold as he twitched the bridle out of Ellen's hand,
threw the strap of the letter-bag round his neck, and gave such a
re-echoing switch to the poor pony, that Alfred heard it up-stairs, and
started up to call out, 'For shame, Harold!'

Harold was ashamed: he settled himself in the saddle and rode off, but
Alfred had not the comfort of knowing that his ill-humour was not being
vented upon the poor beast all the way to Elbury. Alfred had given a
great deal of his heart to that pony, and it made him feel helpless and
indignant to think that it was ill-used. Those tears of which he was
ashamed came welling up into his eyes as he lay back on his pillow; but
they were better tears than yesterday's--they were not selfish.

'Never mind, Alfy,' said Ellen, 'Harold's not a cruel lad; he'll not go
on, if he was cross for a bit. It is all that he's mad after that boy
there! I wish mother had never let him go into the hay-field to meet bad
company! Depend upon it, that boy has run away out of a Reformatory!
Sleeping out at night! I can't think how Farmer Shepherd could encourage
him among honest folk!'

'Well, now I think of it, I should not wonder if he had,' said Mrs. King.
'He is the dirtiest boy that ever I did see! Most likely; I wish he may
do no mischief to-night!'

Harold came home in better humour, but a fresh vexation awaited him. Mrs.
King would not let him go to the hay-home supper in the barn. The men
were apt to drink too much and grow riotous; and with her suspicions
about his new