It was the first thing he had said that made me respect him. I asked him
what had led him to the discovery.

He said: "We've forgotten the balls!"

I looked for my hat; it was lying topsy-turvy in the middle of the path,
and Ethelbertha's favourite hound was swallowing the balls as fast as he
could pick them up.

"He will kill himself," said Ebbson--I have never met him since that day,
thank the Lord; but I think his name was Ebbson--"they are solid steel."

I said: "I am not troubling about the dog. He has had a bootlace and a
packet of needles already this week. Nature's the best guide; puppies
seem to require this kind of stimulant. What I am thinking about is my
bicycle."

He was of a cheerful disposition. He said: "Well, we must put back all
we can find, and trust to Providence."

We found eleven. We fixed six on one side and five on the other, and
half an hour later the wheel was in its place again. It need hardly be
added that it really did wobble now; a child might have noticed it.
Ebbson said it would do for the present. He appeared to be getting a bit
tired himself. If I had let him, he would, I believe, at this point have
gone home. I was determined now, however, that he should stop and
finish; I had abandoned all thoughts of a ride. My pride in the machine
he had killed. My only interest lay now in seeing him scratch and bump
and pinch himself. I revived his drooping spirits with a glass of beer