Thus appealed to, Harry turned to examine the pony, which, in his anxiety for the safety of the boy, he had hitherto forgotten. The result of his scrutiny was by no means satisfactory. “He has broken both knees!” he exclaimed; “the right one is cut severely, and however favourably it may go on, there will always remain a scar; you’ve knocked ten pounds off the pony’s price by that exploit of yours, Master Tom, besides rendering the animal unsafe for your sister to ride.” “You’ve put your foot in it as well as I, Mr. Coverdale,” returned the young imp, grinning. “You promised Alice you would do your best to keep me, and the pony too, in proper order, you know!” “Why, you ungrateful young scamp, I’m sure I told you not to attempt the leap,” replied Harry, restraining a strong inclination to lay his horsewhip across the young pickle’s shoulders. “Yes; and then you and Lancelot went flying over it as lightly as if he had wings, like that fabulous humbug Pegasus, that old Buzwig is always bothering us about. The copy-book says, ‘Practice before precept,’ and so say I. Why, you did not expect I was going to be such a muff as to stay behind, did you?” “I was a fool if I did, at all events,” muttered Harry, _sotto voce_; then turning good-naturedly to the boy, he continued, “The copy-book also says, ‘What can’t be cured must be endured,’ does it not, Tom? So we must get out of the scrape as best we can. We’ll leave the pony at the nearest farm-house, and I’ll send my groom to doctor him--so lead him by the rein and come along.” Of course, when they joined the rest of the party and told their misdeeds, Alice lamented over the pony’s troubles after the usual fashion of tender-hearted young ladies. Of course, Hazlehurst senior, discerning a long farrier’s bill in prospective, with the possibility of being coaxed out of a new pony as a not unlikely contingent result, was grumpy, as Governors usually are when they foresee a strain upon their purse strings; and of course, although these lamentations and threatenings were launched at the curly head of Master Tom, they yet glanced off that unimpressible substance, only to fall upon and overwhelm with shame and confusion Harry Coverdale, who began mentally to curse the day when, false to his own presentiments, he had yielded to his friend’s importunities, and suffered himself to become an inmate of Hazlehurst Grange.