"
"Here we are," said Mark, for by this time he had persuaded Mr. Mousley
to put his foot upon the step of the front door.
"You managed the house very well," said the clergyman. "It's
extraordinary how a house will take to some people and not to others.
Now I can do anything I like with dogs, and you can do anything you like
with houses. But it's no good patting or stroking a house. You've got to
manage a house quite differently to that. You've got to keep a house's
accounts. You haven't got to keep a dog's accounts."
They were in the gymnasium by now, which by the light of Mark's small
candle loomed as vast as a church.
"Don't talk as you go upstairs," Mark admonished.
"Isn't that a dog I see there?"
"No, no, no," said Mark. "It's the horse. Come along."
"A horse?" Mousley echoed. "Well, I can manage horses too. Come here,
Dobbin. If I'd known we were going to meet a horse I should have brought
back some sugar with me. I suppose it's too late to go back and buy some
sugar now?"
"Yes, yes," said Mark impatiently. "Much too late. Come along."
"If I had a piece of sugar he'd follow us upstairs. You'll find a horse
will go anywhere after a piece of sugar. It is a horse, isn't it? Not a
donkey? Because if it was a donkey he would want a thistle, and I don't
know where I can get a thistle at this time of night.
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