The Radney Riding Club by Josephine Pullein-Thompson

Author:Josephine Pullein-Thompson [Pullein-Thompson, Josephine]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Jane Badger Books

9

“And now,” said Christo on Saturday morning, when they had finished discussing General de Veriac, and the new things they had learned, “we’ve got to think about the gymkhana.”

Henry groaned, and then said, “Well, we’re not going to slack off the schooling, so don’t you think it. In fact, we’ve got to work harder than before, now we know what’s wrong with us. The reputation of the club is at stake.”

“The reputation of the club will be mud if we run a gymkhana which is a complete flop,” Christo pointed out, “and time’s getting jolly short.”

“Oh, why did I ever agree to holding a gymkhana at all?” wailed Henry.

“The second string have got to have some fun,” said Christo, “and, personally, I like gymkhanas,” she said defensively.

“Oh, gosh!” said Noel, suddenly awakening from a reverie. “Henry, I’m terribly sorry, but I told Alex I’d give him a lesson at eleven-thirty today. Is that all right?”

Henry groaned again. “I suppose so,” he said; “but we’d better start schooling at once or we shan’t fit in an hour.”

“You and I can discuss the gymkhana while Noel takes him,” said Christo.

They agreed that it would be best for them to school separately, and try to improve the faults which the General had pointed out, then, at the end of the lesson they would each perform in turn for the inspection and criticism of the other two.

They had not been riding for very long when there was a loud shriek from Henry. Noel and Christo left their corners of the field and rode across to him.

“What’s the matter?” asked Christo.

“It was a cry of horror,” he explained. “Your noble chairman has fallen from his high estate; he’s committed an unpardonable error. He has thrust important club correspondence unopened into the pocket of his best riding-coat and forgotten all about it.”

“What correspondence and how long ago?” asked Christo.

“And then you say I’m always in a dream,” remarked Noel.

“It was yesterday morning,” said Henry, “and they looked suspiciously like communications from the West Barsetshire people and my esteemed Uncle G. Here, hold Echo, someone. I’ll dash.”

Noel took Echo because he knew and liked Sonnet, and Henry ran off at full speed. He soon reappeared clutching three letters. He gave one each to Noel and Christo. “I’d better have Uncle G.’s,” he said, “just in case he’s being uncle-y.”

They tore open the letters and began to decipher them. “Mine’s from somebody called Dick,” said Christo. “His writing is so jolly small and niggly that it’s almost impossible to read, but he seems to be coming.”

“Mine’s written by John, I know his writing, it’s very large and solid, but it’s a joint answer from him and Susan, and they’re both coming,” said Noel.

“Gosh!” said Henry. “We’re going to have a houseful. What is Mamma going to say? Uncle G.’s letter isn’t very interesting,” he went on, “except that it contains a few biographical notes on the General. He seems to have won the Grand Prix dressage championship of Europe three times and to have show-jumped everywhere.

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