"Lead her on gently," was Roy's ready advice. "We aren't far off from
C----, and I know there's a blacksmith there."
Dudley grumbled a little at having his ride spoiled in this fashion; but
it was not long before they reached the neighboring village, and the
smith's forge was soon found.
Then, whilst Hazel was being attended to, Roy suggested that they
should go and see an old lady, a great friend of their aunt's, who lived
just outside the village.
"She might ask us to tea," suggested Roy, "and she has awfully nice cake
always going. I'll leave my pony here, and we'll call again for them on
our way back."
"I don't like paying visits," objected Dudley, a little crossly.
"But Mrs. Ford isn't half bad to talk to, she's full of stories."
And by dint of these two baits, "cake" and "stories," Dudley's shyness
was overcome, and the two boys were soon walking up a sunny little
garden and knocking at the rose-covered door of "Clematis Cottage."
It was a tiny house, but spotlessly clean and tidy, and the long, low,
dainty drawing-room into which they were shown had a sense of rest and
repose which insensibly affected even the boys' restless spirits.
"A nice room to be ill in," was Roy's comment; "there would be such a
lot of jolly pictures and things to look at on the walls when you were
in bed.
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