said my father.

"Ye may say that, yer honour. It likes boys better than man, woman, or
child, and it's not every baste ye can say that for."

"A good many beasts have reason to think very differently, I fear,"
said my father.

"And _that's_ as true a word as your honour ever spoke," assented the
groom.

Meanwhile a possible ground of consolation was beginning to suggest
itself to my mind.

"Will Mr. Gray keep his pony here?" I asked,

"The pony will live here," said my father.

"Oh, do you think," I asked, "do you think, that if I am very good,
and do my lessons well, Mr. Gray will sometimes let me ride him? He
_is_ such a darling!" By which I meant the pony, and not Mr. Gray. My
father laughed, and put his hand on my shoulders.

"I have only been teasing you, Regie," he said. "You know I told you
there was no tutor in the case. Mr. Andrewes and I were talking about
this pony, and when Mr. Andrewes said _grey_, he spoke of the colour
of the pony, and not of anybody's name."

"Then is the pony yours?" I asked.

My father looked at my eager face with a pleased smile.

"No, my boy," he said, "he is yours."

The wild delight with which I received this announcement, the way I
jumped and danced, and that Rubens jumped and danced with me, my
gratitude and my father's satisfaction, the renewed amenities between
myself and my pony, his obvious knowledge of the fact that I was his
master, and the running commentary of the Irishman, I will not attempt
to describe.

The purchase of this pony was indeed one of my father's many kind
thoughts for my welfare and amusement. My odd pilgrimage to the
Rectory in search of change and society, and the pettish complaints of
dulness and monotony at home which I had urged to account for my freak
of "dropping in," had seemed to him not without a certain serious
foundation. Except for walks about the farm with him, and stolen
snatches of intercourse with the grooms, and dogs, and horses in the
stables (which both he and Nurse Bundle discouraged), I had little or
no amusement proper to a boy of my age. I was very well content to sit
with Rubens at Mrs. Bundle's apron-string, but now and then I was, to
use an expressive word, _moped_. My father had taken counsel with Mr.
Andrewes, and the end of it all was that I found myself the master of
the most charming of ponies, with the exciting prospect before me of
learning to ride. The very thought of it invigorated me. Before the
Iris