The horses had slowed to a walk, but Mr. Harry did not notice it. A smile was beginning to struggle with the hard lines about his mouth.
"Well, Peter," he said, "you 've preached quite a sermon. What would you advise?"
"That ye go back an' take a firm hold o' the bridle, sir, an' if she uses the whip, just hold on hard an' don't let on that it hurts."
Mr. Harry looked at Peter and the smile spread to his eyes. "And then when she drops it," he asked, "just laugh and ride on?"
Peter coughed a deprecatory cough.
"Beggin' yer pardon, Mr. Harry, I think if I was in your place I'd pick it up an' keep it meself. It might come in handy in case of emergencies."
Mr. Harry threw back his head in a quick, boyish laugh, and reaching over he took the lines and turned the horses' heads.
"Peter," he said, "you may be elemental, but I half suspect you 're right."
