It's like working a tread-mill, and it rattles and bangs about until you think every minute it must all be coming to pieces.

It's got a sort of box-seat instead of a saddle.

Maxton hired it out one day the term before last, and he and I and Collis rode to Chatton.

It isn't meant to carry three; but the seat's very wide, and they squeezed me in between them.

There's something wrong with the steering-gear, and it makes a beastly grinding noise as it goes along, so Maxton christened it the 'coffee-mill.' Fellows are always chaffing old Jobling about it, when they go into his shop to buy bits of leather, and asking him how much he'll take for his coffee-mill, and the old chap gets into an awful wax." "Oh, I don't care!" answered Jack.