"That's awfully bad
news--'cause I'd about made up my mind to offer him Bobs!"
"Offer--him--Bobs!" said Jim slowly. Wally gasped.
"Just for a ride, Jimmy. He's a guest, you know, and I don't like him
to feel ill-used. And you let him on Garryowen."
"Only for a moment--and then with my heart in my boots!" said Jim.
"Norah, I think you're utterly mad if you lend him Bobs--after last
night, too! Why, you know jolly well I'VE never asked you for your
pony!"
"Well, you could have had him," Norah answered, "you know that, Jimmy.
I don't want to lend him to Cecil--I simply hate it; but I don't like
the idea of his thinking we treated him at all badly."
"He's the sort of chap that would find a grievance if you gave
everything you had in the world," Jim said. "It's all rot--and I tell
you straight, Nor., I don't think it's safe, either. Bobs is all right
with you, of course, but he's a fiery little beggar, and there's no
knowing what he'd do with a sack of flour like that on his back. I wish
you wouldn't."
"What do you think, Wally?"
"Me? Oh, I'm with Jim," Wally answered. "Personally, I think a
velocipede is about Cecil's form, and it's absolute insult to a pony
like Bobs to ask him to carry him! And you'd hate it so, Nor.'!"
"Oh, I know I would," Norah said.
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