Emily stooped down, took his
rough head in her hands, and kissed him. 'Is he not a dear?' she said,
looking up; and then she said, 'I hope you won't object to having him in
the house;' her face clouded.
'Oh, my dear Emily, how can you ask such a question? I shall never object
to anything you desire.' The conversation paused, and they walked some
paces in silence. Emily had just begun to speak of her flowers, when they
came upon the gardener, who was standing in consternation over the
fragments of a broken mowing-machine. Jack--that was the donkey--had been
left to himself just for a moment. It was impossible to say what wild freak
had taken him; but instead of waiting, as he was expected to wait,
stolidly, he had started off on a wild career, regardless of the safety of
the machine. At the first bound it had come in contact with a flower-vase,
which had been sent in many pieces over the sward; at the second it had met
with some stone coping; and at the third it had turned over in complete
dissolution, and Jack was free to tear up the turf with his hoofs, until
finally his erratic course was stopped by the small boy who was responsible
for the animal's behaviour. The arrival of Hubert and Emily saved the small
boy from many a cuff and the donkey from a kick or two; and Jack stood amid
the ruin he had created, as quiet and as docile a creature as the mind
could imagine.
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