I galloped off, as proud as a non- commissioned officer who has been sent to fetch his regimental flag on to the field of battle.

The chaps behind might cheer and jeer and cry, "Gee-up, Sarah!" and "Mad dog!" as much as they liked.

They would have been only too proud to be sent on my errand.
It was a good ten minutes' run to Bridge Street, and I was fairly out of breath when I rang at the bell of Number 3.

It seemed a long time before any one came, and I was beginning to be afraid I should forfeit the reputation I hoped to acquire, when hurried footsteps announced that my ring had been heard.
Mrs Redwood was out, said the servant, and she had been down the garden with the children.
When I delivered my message, she asked me to wait; and with her little charges evidently on her mind, ran upstairs to fetch the belt.
It was a nice house, although a small one.

The garden door was open, and gave a beautiful peep over the little sloping lawn to the river and the woods beyond.