Маленький лорд Фаунтлерой
Chapter VIII
“Wanttogetoff?”
“Itjoltsyoumorethanyouthinkitwill,”admittedhisyounglordshipfrankly.“Andittiresyoualittle,too;butIdon’twanttogetoff.Iwanttolearnhow.AssoonasI’vegotmybreathIwanttogobackforthehat.”
Thecleverestpersonintheworld,ifhehadundertakentoteachFauntleroyhowtopleasetheoldmanwhowatchedhim,couldnothavetaughthimanythingwhichwouldhavesucceededbetter.Astheponytrottedoffagaintowardtheavenue,afaintcolorcreptupinthefierceoldface,andtheeyes,undertheshaggybrows,gleamedwithapleasuresuchashislordshiphadscarcelyexpectedtoknowagain.Andhesatandwatchedquiteeagerlyuntilthesoundofthehorses’hoofsreturned.Whentheydidcome,whichwasaftersometime,theycameatafasterpace.Fauntleroy’shatwasstilloff;Wilkinswascarryingitforhim;hischeekswereredderthanbefore,andhishairwasflyingabouthisears,buthecameatquiteabriskcanter.
“There!”hepanted,astheydrewup,“Ic-cantered.Ididn’tdoitaswellastheboyonFifthAvenue,butIdidit,andIstaidon!”
HeandWilkinsandtheponywereclosefriendsafterthat.Scarcelyadaypassedinwhichthecountrypeopledidnotseethemouttogether,canteringgaylyonthehighroadorthroughthegreenlanes.
