s not hurt, I
think, by her fall. But she was dreadfully frightened, and sat crying
so piteously that I began to get quite alarmed. I tied the pony up to
the nearest tree, and did what I could to relieve the young lady's
tribulation, a task in which I was succeeding very fairly when a female,
the child's nurse, arrived on the scene in a panic. Of course my little
patient broke out afresh for the benefit of her protectress, and an
affecting scene ensued, in the midst of which, finding I was not wanted,
and feeling a little foolish to be standing by when so much crying and
kissing was going on, I proceeded on my way, half wishing it had been my
luck to secure that lively little pony for my journey home.

However, ten miles come to an end at last, and in due time I turned up
at Brownstroke pretty tired, and generally feeling somewhat down in the
mouth by my day's adventures.

But those adventures, or rather events, were not yet over; for that same
evening brought a letter with the London postmark and the initials M.,
B., and Company on the seal of the envelope!

You may fancy how eagerly I opened it. It ran as follows:

"Messrs. Merrett, Barnacle, and Company are in receipt of Frederick
Batchelor's application for junior clerkship, and in reply--"

"What?" I gasped to myself, as I turned over the leaf.

"--would like to see Batchelor at their office on Saturday next at
10:15."

I could hardly believe my eyes. I rushed to my uncle and showed him the
letter.

"Isn't it splendid?" I cried.

"Not at all," replied he. "Don't be too fast, you have not got the
place yet."

"Ah, I know," said I, "but I've a chance at least."

"You have a chance against a dozen others," said my uncle, "who most
likely have got each of them a letter just like this."

"Well, but, of course, I must go on Saturday?"

"You still mean to try?" said my uncle.

"Why yes," said I resolutely. "I do."

"Then you had better go to town on Saturday."

"Won't you go with me?" I inquired nervously.

"No," said my uncle; "Merrett, Barnacle, and Company want to see you,
not me."

"But--" began I. But I didn't say what I was going to say. Why should
I tell my uncle I was afraid to go to London alone?

"Where am I to live if I do _get_ the place? London's such a big place
to be in."

"Oh, we'll see to that," said my uncle, "in due time. Time enough for
that when you get your place."

This was true; and half elated, half alarme