Jerry thanked him kindly, but said as he had some dinner with him there was
nothing he should like so well as walking about in the meadow.
When my harness was taken off I did not know what I should do first—
whether to eat the grass, or roll over on my back, or lie down and rest, or have a
gallop across the meadow out of sheer spirits at being free; and I did all by turns.
Jerry seemed to be quite as happy as I was; he sat down by a bank under a shady
tree, and listened to the birds, then he sang himself, and read out of the little
brown book he is so fond of, then wandered round the meadow, and down by a
little brook, where he picked the flowers and the hawthorn, and tied them up
with long sprays of ivy; then he gave me a good feed of the oats which he had
brought with him; but the time seemed all too short—I had not been in a field
since I left poor Ginger at Earlshall.
We came home gently, and Jerry's first words were, as we came into the yard,
“Well, Polly, I have not lost my Sunday after all, for the birds were singing
hymns in every bush, and I joined in the service; and as for Jack, he was like a
young colt.”
When he handed Dolly the flowers she jumped about for joy.