we want. I think I managed very well.'

'You think yourself jolly clever, I daresay,' said Cyril moodily.
'How did you do it?'

'I wasn't jolly clever enough to go taking handfuls of money out of
my pocket, to make it seem cheap, anyway,' she retorted. 'I just
found a young man doing something to a horse's leg with a sponge
and a pail. And I held out one sovereign, and I said, "Do you know
what this is?" He said, "No," and he'd call his father. And the
old man came, and he said it was a spade guinea; and he said was it
my own to do as I liked with, and I said "Yes"; and I asked about
the pony-cart, and I said he could have the guinea if he'd drive us
in to Rochester. And his name is S. Crispin. And he said, "Right
oh".'

It was a new sensation to be driven in a smart pony-trap along
pretty country roads, it was very pleasant too (which is not always
the case with new sensations), quite apart from the beautiful plans
of spending the money which each child made as they went along,
silently of course and quite to itself, for they felt it would
never have done to let the old innkeeper hear them talk in the
affluent sort of way they were thinking. The old man put them down
by the bridge at their request.

'If you were going to buy a carriage and horses, where would you
go?' asked Cyril, as if he were only asking for the sake of
something to say.

'Billy Peasemarsh, at the Saracen's Head,' said the old man