er image in his mind, whereas his mother was all the
world to the invalid boy. It occurred to him that he would get a very
warm reception at the Warren, whither he meant to go to convey to Theo
his gracious acceptance of the offered lessons; and this gave brightness
and pleasure to the expedition. But the real object of it was to show
kindness which his mother had suggested as the only payment Theo would
accept. Geoff in his generosity was going to give the price beforehand,
to intimate his intention of saving Theo trouble by coming to the Warren
every second day, and generally to propitiate and please his new tutor.
It was a very important expedition, and nobody after this could say that
Theo's kindness was not repaid.

The pony trotted along very steadily so long as Geoff remembered to keep
his attention to it; and it cantered a little, surprising Geoff, when
it found the turf under its hoofs, along another stretch of sunny road
which Geoff turned into without remembering it, with a thrill of fresh
delight in its novelty and in the long vista under its over-arching
boughs. Then he went through the little wood, making the pony walk, his
little heart all melting with the sweetness and shade as he picked his
way across the brook, in which the leaves lay as in Valombrosa. The pony
liked that gentle pace; perhaps he had thoughts of his own which were as
urgent, yet as idle, as Geoff's, and like the boy felt the delight of
the unknown. Anyhow, he continued to walk along the level stretch of
road beyond the wood; and Geoff, upon his back, made no remonstrance.
The boy began to get a little confused by the turnings, by the landscape,
by the effect of the wide atmosphere and the wind blowing in his face.
He forgot almost that he was Geoff. He was a little boy on his way to
fairyland, riding on and on in a dream.

CHAPTER XXI.

The pony walked on, sometimes a little quicker, sometimes a little
slower, while Geoff dreamed. No doubt the pony too had his own thoughts.
His opinion was that summer had come again. He was rather a pampered
little pony, who had never been put to any common use, who had never
felt harness on his back, or a weight behind him, or even the touch of
a whip beyond that of Geoff's little switch; and he had come so far and
had trotted so long that he was hot, and did not like it. He had come
so far that he no longer knew which was the direction of home and the
comfortable cool stable, for which he be