“If I look at him too long, I shall eat him,” said the cook-maid.

“He is a darling,” said the upper housemaid.

Betsy aforesaid often opened a window to have a sly look at him, and on one of these occasions she inspected him from an upper story at her leisure.  His manner drew her attention.  She saw him mount Lucy, and eye her departing form sadly and wistfully.  Betsy glowered and glowered, and hit the nail on the head, as people will do who are so absurd as to look with their own eyes, and draw their own conclusions instead of other people’s.  After this she took an opportunity, and said to Tom, with a satirical air, “How are you off for nags, your way?”

“Oh, we have got enough for our corn,” replied Tom, on the defensive.

“It seems you can’t find one for the captain among you.”

“Will you give a kiss if I make you out a liar?”

“Sooner than break my arm.  Come, you might, Tom.  Now is it reasonable, him never to get a ride with her, and that useless lot prancing about with her all day long?”

“Why don’t you ride with ’em, capting?”

“I have no horse.”

“I have got a horse for you, sir—­master’s.”

“That would be taking a liberty.”

“Liberty, sir! no; master would be so pleased if you would but ride him.  He told me so.”

“Then saddle him, pray.”

“I have a-saddled him.  You had better come in the stable-yard, capting; then you can mount and follow; you will catch them before they reach the Downs.”  In another minute David was mounted.

“Do you ride short or long, capting?” inquired Tom, handling the stirrup-leather.

David wore a puzzled look.  “I ride as long as I can stick on;” and he trotted out of the stable-yard.  As Tom had predicted, he caught the party just as they went off the turn-pike on to the grass.  His heart beat with joy; he cantered in among them.  His horse was fresh, squeaked, and bucked at finding himself on grass and in company, and David announced his arrival by rolling in among their horses’ feet with the reins tight grasped in his fist.  The ladies screamed with terror.  David got up laughing; his horse had hoped to canter away without him, and now stood facing him and pulling.

“No, ye don’t,” said David.  “I held on to the tiller-ropes though I did go overboard.”  Then ensued a battle between David and his horse, the one wanting to mount, the other anxious to be unencumbered with sailors.  It was settled by David making a vault and sitting on the animal’s neck, on which the ladies screamed again, and Lucy, half whimpering, proposed to go home.

“Don’t think of it,” cried David.  “I won’t be beat by such a small craft as this—­hallo!” for, the horse backing into Talboys, that gentleman gave him a clandestine cut, and he bolted, and, being a little hard-mouthed, would gallop in spite of the tiller-ropes.  On came the other nags after him, all misbehaving more or less, so fine a thing is example.  When they had galloped half a mile the ground began to rise, and David’s horse relaxed his pace, whereon David whipped him industriously, and made him gallop again in spite of remonstrance.