o depart, a proceeding which
brought clouds of dust from his shaggy coat, and caused him to
scramble suddenly forward, and plunge down the lane at quite an
adventurous and stylish pace.

"If he won't go, just cuss at him!" yelled Geordie as a last piece of
advice.

Though Dandy might make a gallant beginning, he had no intention of
breaking the record for speed, and at the end of a few hundred yards
dropped into an ambling jog-trot, a form of locomotion which seemed to
jolt the badly hung little gig to its uttermost.

"It's rather a painful form of exercise!" gasped Aveline, setting her
feet firmly in an attempt to avoid the jarring. "I believe something
must be wrong with the springs. Can't you make him go faster?"

"Only if I beat him; and then suppose he runs away?"

"Well, if he does, we'll each cling on to one rein and pull. I
suppose driving is pretty much like steering a bicycle. Is the rule of
the road the same?"

"Of course. Don't be silly !"

"Well, I never can make out why it's different for foot-passengers.
Why should they go to the right, and vehicles to the left?"

"You may be certain all motors will take the middle of the road, at
any rate. We shall have to be prepared to make a dash for the hedge
when we hear a 'too-hoo' round the corner. I've no mind to be run over
and squashed out flat!"

"Like the naughty children who teased Diogenes in an old picture-book
I used to have. I always thought it was a lovely idea of his to start
the tub rolling, and simply flatten them out like pancakes. I expect
it's a true incident, if we only knew. One of those things that are
not historical, but so probable that you're sure they must have
happened. He'd reason it out by philosophy first, and feel it was a
triumph of mind over matter. Perhaps his chuckles when he saw the
result were the origin of the term 'a cynical laugh'. The children in
the picture looked so exactly like pieces of rolled pastry when the
tub had done its work."

"I don't think the motors would have any more compunction than
Diogenes, so the moral is--give them as wide a berth as possible. If
we were driving a big hay-cart, I'd enjoy blocking the way!"

They had turned out of the lane, and were now on the high road to
Ledcombe, but progressing at an extremely slow pace. Raymonde ventured
to apply the whip, but on the pony's thick coat it appeared to produce
as slight an impression as the tickling of a fly, and, when she
endeavoured to g