pants of the cart, Tim saw the whip; he
took advantage of the opportunity, and shied right into the shallow
ditch.

Away rolled the bowl of beef-tea from between Mary's hands, and the soup
which had been so carefully prepared for Mrs. Wood trickled down her
white skirt in brown streams, and formed small pools upon the vacant
seat facing her.

'Give me the whip at once, Harry,' said Mrs. Raeburn angrily. 'You are a
very disobedient little boy. Now poor old Mrs. Wood won't have any
dinner. Well, Mary,' with a sigh of resignation, 'as we have no soup, we
might drive on to the Common for a blow.'

(_Continued on page 402._)

[Illustration: "He finished by backing hard into the small wooden
gate."]

[Illustration: "The motor came to a standstill."]

A GENTLE DONKEY.

(_Continued from page 399._)

Peace was soon restored, and by the time that the Common was reached,
Mrs. Raeburn had again quite explained away the donkey's behaviour.

'He is evidently very nervous,' she said. 'Poor little beast! Perhaps he
has been ill-treated at some time, and dreads the sight of the whip from
sad experience; we must take care not to frighten him again.'

'Yes, Ma'am,' acquiesced Mary meekly. 'The mistress drives horses
beautifully,' she confided to Nannie later, 'but she knows nothing about
donkeys and their artful ways. You take my word for it, that donkey is a
wicked one.'

'Now then, pretty one!' chirruped Mrs. Raeburn to Tim as they rambled
along the broad road on the Common, 'you must be good, and not show us
those naughty little heels again.' Tim whisked his tail in response and
trotted amiably along.

'Why, the road is quite gay to-day, Mary! Oh! of course, it is
market-day. Now, good little Tim, keep to the side of the road, so as
not to frighten these tired sheep. Warm day!' she called out genially to
a man who trudged wearily along behind his flock.

But in spite of her kindly precautions, the nervous sheep scuttled
across the road on to the heather-clad common, bleating plaintively:
then their scuttle became a run. At sight of this flying column, Tim
stopped, put his head on one side, and prepared to follow.

'No, thank you, Tim,' laughed Mrs. Raeburn as she tried to pull him up.
'I have no ambition to herd sheep. You little wretch!' she continued in
quite a different tone of voice; for Tim was in "full cry" after them.

Bump, bump, bump went the springless governess cart over the lumpy
Common, rocking