ut from under the bed, he plunged his hand
to the bottom and soon drew out his troublesome boots; then tucking them
under his coat, which barely served to cover them, he slid down the
banisters to save all noise, and tore out into the yard, and around the
corner to the boot-house, as though a pack of wolves was after him.
But, in turning the corner, he came face to face with something he had not
expected, and that was the burly form of Farmer Minards himself.
Paul's heart sunk like lead, and he went cold all over with apprehension.

"Hullo, young gentleman," said the old man, "I thought you was laid by
the heels?"

Paul tried to smile. "I hurt my foot, and couldn't walk to Four Bridges,
but it isn't much."

"Where be 'ee off now?" asked the farmer, looking anxiously at the
funny-shaped protuberances under Paul's arms. "Be 'ee going for a stroll
by yerself? Can't keep in, I s'pose, but must be out in the fresh air."

"Oh, I--I ain't going far," stammered Paul. "I am only just having a look
round."

"Would 'ee care to come and see 'em cutting the hay in the Little Meadow?
It wouldn't be far for 'ee to walk; we've got the new machine, and 'tis a
real beauty. All the men are out there looking at un."

It did seem to Paul altogether too cruel that so many things he would have
given anything to see and do should happen that afternoon, and that he
should have to refuse them. "Oh, I--I--" and then he stopped. He could
not go all out there with his boots under his arms, nor could he get rid
of them while Farmer Minards stood looking at him; he had to keep up the
pretence, too, about his foot. "I've strained my ankle, rather," he said
lamely. "I'm afraid I could not walk so far. Mother has bandaged it, and
I've only got my slippers on. I'm awfully sorry," he added with genuine
regret.

"Never mind, sir, you can come another time. I'm sorry you're so bad, but
when I saw you cutting along so spry I thought perhaps you was all right
again; but we shall be using un again next week, and you can come then,
perhaps," and Farmer Minards at last moved away, to Paul's intense relief,
for he had been terrified all the time lest someone else should come along
and catch him.

He ran on to the boot-house, but with little hope of finding Muggridge
there now, for he would probably be out in the hay-field with the rest of
the men. A thought had come to him, however, that he himself might manage
to clean the mud off the boots