I never could like that boy Norman; I thought him both cowardly and conceited. I could not forget that he had killed my friend, the poor dog, Jenny. One day, when he came to my mistress’s house on a visit, he insisted on riding on my back. “Now,” thought I to myself, “I’ll have my revenge.”

Just beyond the garden there was a wood, and beyond the wood there was a very deep and dirty ditch, generally full to the brim with mud. Norman had been boasting what an excellent rider he was, and invited the others to come with him through the wood to see him jump the ditch. They all came, though they did not believe he could do it.

Scarcely had they started, Norman on my back, and the others running by my side along the path through the wood, when I threw up my heels and dashed aside from the path into the60 bushes. “All right,” shouted Norman, “you run on by the path as far as the ditch, and see whether I don’t jump it before you get there.”

“Oh, you will?” I said to myself. I went quietly along for a little way, where the bushes were thin and fairly far apart, and then, without any warning, I plunged right into a thicket of brambles. My skin is tough, so I didn’t mind them, but Norman’s face and hands and stockinged legs were scratched, and the thorns stuck into his clothes from head to foot. He was a nice object by the time we got to the ditch: he had quite given up his boastful idea of jumping over it, and did all he could to make me stop and let him get off my back.

“Not if I know it,” thought I. “I shall never get such a chance again of punishing you for shooting Jenny;” so I galloped along the edge of the ditch, and when I had reached a very steep and slippery place, I suddenly stopped short, and jerked Norman off my back. He was unable to gain his footing, and pitched headlong into the thick, black mud.

Just then the other children came racing down the path; but what was their surprise and alarm to find me looking into the ditch, and Norman nowhere to be seen.

“Norman! Norman!” they shouted, “where are you?”

Along from the Edge of the Ditch.
"Along from the Edge of the Ditch."

“Here—oh, help!” said a half-stifled voice at last. They looked into the ditch, and there was Norman, half drowned in mud; he was on his feet again, and was standing on the bottom62 of the ditch; but it was nearly five feet deep, and the mud was up to his neck. “Help me out! oh, help me out! I shall be drowned!”

Norman’s screams attracted the attention of two farm-hands who were passing near at hand, and they ran up to see what was the matter. In a few minutes they had got a long pole and had let one end down into the ditch so that Norman could catch hold of it. Then the men pulled slowly at the other end of the pole, and at last Norman managed to scramble out. He was covered with mud, and his teeth were chattering with cold and fright. I began to be sorry for what I had done, and kept behind the children, who were hurrying Norman home as fast as he could go.

I heard the next day that Norman was very ill; he was obliged to stay in bed. The doctor was afraid he was going to have a bad fever, and be ill a long while. He shook his head when the children went to inquire after Norman, and advised my mistress not to let the children ride me at present, until Norman was better, and could tell them how the accident had happened.

I knew it was not an accident, and began to be much afraid in consequence of what I had done. When Norman got well enough to tell them all about it, and how badly I had behaved, they all looked at me very seriously.

The next morning, when Robert, the stableman, came as usual to fetch me to be saddled, and to take Jack and Janie for a ride, he said nothing to me, but, to my great alarm, groomed and saddled the other donkey that lived in the stable. In a few minutes Jack came in at the door, his face very sad, and his eyes full of tears.

“Neddy,” he said, “I’m very, very sorry, but grandma won’t let me ride you any more. She’s afraid you’ll be naughty again, and kick me off, as you did poor Norman. Oh, Neddy dear, how could you do it?”

I was dreadfully upset by this, and wanted to explain to Jack that it was because I hated Norman, and that I shouldn’t think of doing it to him, or Janie, or anybody else whom I loved, and who was kind to me. But I didn’t know how to say this to Jack, so I only drooped my head, and touched his shoulder with my nose.

“Mind, Master Jack,” said Robert, “don’t let that vicious donkey touch you. Perhaps he’ll bite you. Come away, my lad, directly,” and Robert seized Jack by the hand, and pulled him away.

“Yes, the horrid brute!” said Teddy, who, with the others, had come to the stable door. “Of course, Norman isn’t always nice, but Neddy had no business to try to drown him. I’ll take good care that I have nothing more to do with such a donkey.”

“And I, too,” said Dick, and so said all the others. Jack looked very sorrowful, but as Robert put him on the other donkey’s back and led him away he looked round and said to me in his usual kind little voice:—

“Poor, poor Neddy! Never mind, I’ll always love you just the same, though I mustn’t ride you any more, and perhaps some day you’ll be good again, won’t you, dear Neddy?”