Название: The Complete Works of Frances Hodgson Burnett
Автор: Frances Hodgson Burnett
Издательство: Bookwire
Жанр: Языкознание
isbn: 9788027218615
isbn:
The morning the new pony had been tried, the Earl had been so pleased that he had almost forgotten his gout. When the groom had brought out the pretty creature, which arched its brown, glossy neck and tossed its fine head in the sun, the Earl had sat at the open window of the library and had looked on while Fauntleroy took his first riding lesson. He wondered if the boy would show signs of timidity. It was not a very small pony, and he had often seen children lose courage in making their first essay at riding.
Fauntleroy mounted in great delight. He had never been on a pony before, and he was in the highest spirits. Wilkins, the groom, led the animal by the bridle up and down before the library window.
“He’s a well plucked un, he is,” Wilkins remarked in the stable afterward with many grins. “It weren’t no trouble to put HIM up. An’ a old un wouldn’t ha’ sat any straighter when he WERE up. He ses—ses he to me, ‘Wilkins,’ he ses, ‘am I sitting up straight? They sit up straight at the circus,’ ses he. An’ I ses, ‘As straight as a arrer, your lordship!’—an’ he laughs, as pleased as could be, an’ he ses, ‘That’s right,’ he ses, ‘you tell me if I don’t sit up straight, Wilkins!’”
But sitting up straight and being led at a walk were not altogether and completely satisfactory. After a few minutes, Fauntleroy spoke to his grandfather—watching him from the window:
“Can’t I go by myself?” he asked; “and can’t I go faster? The boy on Fifth Avenue used to trot and canter!”
“Do you think you could trot and canter?” said the Earl.
“I should like to try,” answered Fauntleroy.
His lordship made a sign to Wilkins, who at the signal brought up his own horse and mounted it and took Fauntleroy’s pony by the leading-rein.
“Now,” said the Earl, “let him trot.”
The next few minutes were rather exciting to the small equestrian. He found that trotting was not so easy as walking, and the faster the pony trotted, the less easy it was.
“It j-jolts a g-goo-good deal—do-doesn’t it?” he said to Wilkins. “D-does it j-jolt y-you?”
“No, my lord,” answered Wilkins. “You’ll get used to it in time. Rise in your stirrups.”
“I’m ri-rising all the t-time,” said Fauntleroy.
He was both rising and falling rather uncomfortably and with many shakes and bounces. He was out of breath and his face grew red, but he held on with all his might, and sat as straight as he could. The Earl could see that from his window. When the riders came back within speaking distance, after they had been hidden by the trees a few minutes, Fauntleroy’s hat was off, his cheeks were like poppies, and his lips were set, but he was still trotting manfully.
“Stop a minute!” said his grandfather. “Where’s your hat?”
Wilkins touched his. “It fell off, your lordship,” he said, with evident enjoyment. “Wouldn’t let me stop to pick it up, my lord.”
“Not much afraid, is he?” asked the Earl dryly.
“Him, your lordship!” exclaimed Wilkins. “I shouldn’t say as he knowed what it meant. I’ve taught young gen’lemen to ride afore, an’ I never see one stick on more determinder.”
“Tired?” said the Earl to Fauntleroy. “Want to get off?”
“It jolts you more than you think it will,” admitted his young lordship frankly. “And it tires you a little, too; but I don’t want to get off. I want to learn how. As soon as I’ve got my breath I want to go back for the hat.”
The cleverest person in the world, if he had undertaken to teach Fauntleroy how to please the old man who watched him, could not have taught him anything which would have succeeded better. As the pony trotted off again toward the avenue, a faint color crept up in the fierce old face, and the eyes, under the shaggy brows, gleamed with a pleasure such as his lordship had scarcely expected to know again. And he sat and watched quite eagerly until the sound of the horses’ hoofs returned. When they did come, which was after some time, they came at a faster pace. Fauntleroy’s hat was still off; Wilkins was carrying it for him; his cheeks were redder than before, and his hair was flying about his ears, but he came at quite a brisk canter.
“There!” he panted, as they drew up, “I c-cantered. I didn’t do it as well as the boy on Fifth Avenue, but I did it, and I staid on!”
He and Wilkins and the pony were close friends after that. Scarcely a day passed in which the country people did not see them out together, cantering gayly on the highroad or through the green lanes. The children in the cottages would run to the door to look at the proud little brown pony with the gallant little figure sitting so straight in the saddle, and the young lord would snatch off his cap and swing it at them, and shout, “Hullo! Good-morning!” in a very unlordly manner, though with great heartiness. Sometimes he would stop and talk with the children, and once Wilkins came back to the castle with a story of how Fauntleroy had insisted on dismounting near the village school, so that a boy who was lame and tired might ride home on his pony.
“An’ I’m blessed,” said Wilkins, in telling the story at the stables,—“I’m blessed if he’d hear of anything else! He would n’t let me get down, because he said the boy mightn’t feel comfortable on a big horse. An’ ses he, ‘Wilkins,’ ses he, ‘that boy’s lame and I’m not, and I want to talk to him, too.’ And up the lad has to get, and my lord trudges alongside of him with his hands in his pockets, and his cap on the back of his head, a-whistling and talking as easy as you please! And when we come to the cottage, an’ the boy’s mother come out all in a taking to see what’s up, he whips off his cap an’ ses he, ‘I’ve brought your son home, ma’am,’ ses he, ‘because his leg hurt him, and I don’t think that stick is enough for him to lean on; СКАЧАТЬ