"Yes, dear Aunt Kate, I'll tell you all. Bob Saunders called yesterday just after luncheon, and asked me to go out for a ride with him, and if I could give him a mount, for his own horse was laid up with some outlandish complaint. I didn't like to say `No;' but my own pony, Punch, was gone to be shod, and Bob had no time to wait. Well, Dick was just coming out of the yard as I got into it; he was riding Forester and leading Bessie, to exercise them. `That'll do,' I said. `Here, Dick; I'll take Forester out and give him a trot, and Mr Saunders can ride Bessie.' `Please, Master Walter,' says Dick, `your father's very particular. I don't know what he'll say to me if I let you exercise Forester.' `Oh, nonsense!' I said. `I'll make that all straight.' Dick didn't like it; but I wouldn't be denied, so he let us mount, and begged me to be very careful. `Never fear,' I said; `we'll bring them both back as cool as cucumbers.' And I meant it, auntie. But somehow or other our spirits got the better of us; it was such a fine afternoon, and the horses seemed wild for a gallop; so at last Bob Saunders said, `What do you say, Walter, to a half-mile race just on to the top of the common? it'll do them no harm.' Well, I didn't say yes or no; but somehow or other, off we were in another minute, and, do what I would, I couldn't keep Forester back. Down the lane we went, and right over the common like lightning, and, when I was pulling hard to get Forester round, he went smack through a hedge, and left me on the wrong side of it. Bob laughed at first, but we soon saw that it was no laughing matter. He caught Forester directly, for the poor beast had hurt his foot, and limped along as he walked; and there was an ugly wound in his chest from a pointed stick in the hedge which had struck him. So we crawled home, all of us in a nice pickle, you may be sure. And then I began to think of what father would say, and I couldn't bear to think that he would have to blame me for it all; so I turned into a regular sneaking coward, and gave Dick a sovereign to tell a lie and take the blame on himself, promising him to make it all right with my father. There, auntie, that's just the whole of it; and I'm sure I never knew what a coward I was before. But only let me get well through this scrape, and my name's not Walter if I ever get into such another." "And now, dear boy, what are you going to do about this matter?" asked his aunt after a pause. "Do, auntie? I'm sure I don't know; I've done too much already. It's a bad business at the best, and I don't see that I can do anything about it without making it worse." "Then, Walter, is the burden still to rest on the wrong shoulders? and is Dick to be punished for your fault?" "Oh, as to that, auntie, Dick shan't be the worse for it in the end: he has had a _sovereign_ remedy already; and I'll beg him off from being turned away when I see my father has quite cooled down."