"Oh, then, let us go there by all means," said Jasper, quickly.
"I mean--oh, I'm no end awkward," exclaimed Tom, breaking off, his face
covered with confusion. "It's not necessary to go at once; we can fetch
up there to-morrow."
"Oh, do let us go, Tom," begged Polly, clasping her hands. "I should
dearly love most of all to see the tenantry and those dear little
cottages." And so that was decided upon.
And Tom had his beloved hunt, several of the gentry being asked. And
Polly rode a special horse selected by the little old earl himself.
"It's perfectly safe; he has an excellent disposition," he declared to
old Mr. King, "and he'll carry her all right."
"I'm not afraid," said Mr. King, "the child rides well."
"So she must--so she must, I was sure of it," cried the little old
earl, with a series of chuckles. And he busied himself especially with
seeing her mounted properly when the party gathered on the lawn in
front of the old hall. The hounds were baying and straining at the
leashes, impatient to be off; the pink hunting-coats gave dashes of
colour as their owners moved about over the broad green sward,--under
the oaks,--and Polly felt her heart beat rapidly with the exhilarating
sights and sounds. It was only when they were off, and Tom riding up by
her side expatiated on the glory of running down the fox and "being in
at the death," that the colour died down on her cheek.
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