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 from side to side like a boat in a storm.

'What are you doing?' yelled the herdsman. 'I'll report you, that I will, trying to steal my sheep.'

'This is very exciting,' whispered Harry. 'I like driving with you, Mother.'

But Mother was not enjoying herself. Here was she, the wife of a Justice of the Peace, apparently stealing a flock of sheep in broad daylight. At this moment she could have killed Tim.

'This is dreadful, Mary,' she murmured. 'What can we do? Oh, these idiots of sheep, why won't they stop?'

But the terrified sheep, instead of stopping, only increased their speed. Away they flew over the Common, and behind them, in hot pursuit, galloped Tim, while round both sheep and governess cart barked the frantic sheep-dog.

On, on they raced, over hillocks, through gorse bushes, down into treacherous holes, till at last the gate leading out upon a narrow road was reached. Through this surged the sheep, and close behind them tore Tim. The cart gave a bone-shaking dump as it took the descent from grass to hard road, and Mary, who at the beginning of Tim's flight, had opened the door, was thrown out.

Suddenly a motor was seen coming towards them, along the narrow road, and Mrs. Raeburn gave a gasp of fear.

'Hold your hand up, Harry. Quick—quick!'

Harry, eager to assist, raised both his arms.

'Hullo!' called a familiar voice: the motor came to a sudden standstill, and out of it jumped Major Raeburn.

'What in all the earth are you doing, Maud?' he said in a voice of the greatest astonishment, as he walked towards them; but Mrs. Raeburn motioned him back.

'Turn the motor across the road as fast as you can, and don't let one of these sheep pass it!'

So the panting sheep were stopped, and Tim's race was at an end.

'And now, good people, please explain yourselves,' continued the Major.

'Oh, Jack,' burst forth his wife, 'we have had the most awful morning with Tim. He has smashed Mrs. Laurence's gate, run off after these sheep, Mary is thrown out, and I expect is lying dead somewhere, and I don't know where the drover is.'

'And, Father,' interrupted Harry in his shrill treble, 'we have had such an exciting drive! Mother can drive Tim just beautifully!'

'Well, look here!' said the Major, smiling, 'I suppose I must stay here and speak to the drover of the sheep. You two had better go home across the fields. I will drive Tim home,' he added, with a look in the direction of the donkey.

Half an hour later the motor puffed into the stable yard, and close behind it cantered Tim, looking a most angelic little donkey.

'Can't make the little beast out,' said Major Raeburn to his wife, as they walked towards the house; 'I shall take him out myself to-morrow.'

(Concluded on page 410.)