paper was.”

“I liked it better than the English,” said Coote. “I say, is ‘for’ a preposition or an adverb? I couldn’t remember.”

“Oh, look here! shut up riddles now,” said Richardson, “we’ve had enough of them. Let’s talk about our three and not your ‘for,’ you Coote you.”

Whereupon Richardson started to run, a proceeding which at once convinced his companions that his last observation had been intended as a joke. As in duty bound they gave chase, but the fleet-footed Dick was too many for them; and when at last they came up with him he was strongly intrenched on the box-seat of the empty waggonette at Markridge, with Tom’s whip in his hand, beyond all attack.

“I say,” said he, after his pursuers had taken breath and granted an amnesty, “it would be great fun to drive home by ourselves. Tom’s not here. I asked them. He’s gone to see his aunt, or somebody, and left word he’d be back at three o’clock. Like his cheek. I vote we don’t wait for him.”

“All serene,” said the others, “but we shall want the horse, shan’t we?”

“Perhaps we shall,” said Dick, with a grin, “unless you’d like to pull the trap. The horse is in the stable, and we can tip the fellow to put him in for us.”

The “fellow” was quite amenable to this sort of persuasion, and grinningly complied with the whim of the young gentlemen; secretly enjoying the prospect of Tom’s dismay.

“’Taint no concern of mine,” said he, philosophically. “If you tells me to do it, I does it.”

“And if we tells you to open your mouth and shut your eyes, and you’ll find sixpence in your hand,—you’ll find it there,” said Dick.

“Of course you knows how to drive,” said the stableman.

“Rather! Do you think we’re babies? Here, shy us the reins. Come along, you fellows, there’s room for all three on the box. Now then, Joe, give her her head. Come up, you beast! Swish! See if we don’t make her step out. Let her go!”

With some misgivings, Joe obeyed, and next moment the waggonette swayed majestically out of the yard very much like a small steam-tug going out of harbour in half a cap of wind.

“Rum, the way she pitches,” said Dick presently; “she didn’t do it when we came.”

“Looks to me as if the horse wasn’t quite sober,” suggested Coote.

“Perhaps, if you pulled both reins at the same time, instead of one at a time,” put in Heathcote, “she wouldn’t wobble so much.”

“You duffer; she’d stop dead, if I did that.”

“Suppose you don’t pull either,” said Heathcote.

Richardson pooh-poohed the notion, but acted on it all the same, with highly satisfactorily results. The trap glided along smoothly, and all anxiety as to the management of the mare appeared to be at an end.

“I left word for Tom,” said Richardson, “if he stepped out, he’d catch us up. Ha, ha! Won’t he be wild?”

“Wonder if he’ll get us in a row with Ashford?” said Heathcote.

“Not he. What’s the harm? Just a little horse-play, that’s all.”

Heathcote and Coote became grave.

“Look here,” said the former, “we let you off last time, but you’ll catch it now. Collar him that side, Coote, and have him over.”

“Don’t be an idiot, Heathcote,” cried the Jehu, as he found himself suddenly seized on either hand. “Let go, while I’m driving. Do you hear, Coote; let go, or there’ll be a smash!”

But as “letting go” was an accomplishment not taught at Mountjoy House, Richardson had to adopt stronger measures than mere persuasion in order to clear himself of his embarrassments.

Dropping the reins and flinging his arms vehemently back, he managed to dislodge his assailants, though not without dislodging himself at the same time, and a long and somewhat painful creditors’ meeting down in the waggonette was the consequence.

The mare, whose patience had been gradually evaporating during this strange journey, conscious of the riot behind her, and feeling the reins dropping loosely over her tail, took the whole matter very much to heart, and showed her disapproval of the whole proceedings by taking to her heels and bolting straight away.

The business meeting inside stood forthwith adjourned. With scared faces, the boys struggled to their feet, and, holding on to the rail of the box-seat, peered over to ascertain the cause of this alarming diversion.

“It’s a bolt!” said Richardson, the only one of the three who retained wits enough to think or speak. “Hang on, you fellows; I’ll try and get the reins. Help me up!”

As well as the swaying of the vehicle would allow it, they helped him hoist himself up on to the box. But for a long time all his efforts to catch the reins were in vain, and once or twice it seemed as if nothing could save him from being pitched off his perch on to the road. Luckily the mare kept a straight course, and at length, by a tremendous stretch, well supported from the rear by his faithful comrades, the boy succeeded in reaching the reins and pulling them up over the mare’s tail.

“Hang on now!” said he; “we’re all right if I can only guide her.”