that her wish already took precedent of her
aunt's law. Mary mentally condemned half the contents of the silver
cupboard to neglect, the while she ironed out foaming frills and
floating sash ends.

Mrs Ramsden accompanied Elma to the gate of The Nook, and stood beside
Miss Briskett looking on with dubious eyes, while the two girls took
their places in the high dog-cart. A groom had driven the horse from
the livery stable, and both good ladies expected him to take possession
of the back seat, in the double capacity of chaperon and guide. It
came, therefore, as a shock, when Cornelia dismissed the man with a
smile, and a rain of silver dropped into an eager hand, but
protestations, feeble and stern, were alike disregarded.

"How do you suppose we are going to talk, with him perched there, with
his ears sticking out, listening to every word we say? We don't want
any men poking round, this journey!" laughed Cornelia, settling herself
in her seat, and taking the reins in her gauntleted hands. Miss
Briskett was dismayed to feel a thrill of pride mingling with her
displeasure, for the girl looked so fresh, so trim, so sparklingly alive
perched up on her high driving seat. Elma Ramsden, for all her superior
beauty, looked tame and insignificant beside her. Although she would
not condescend to look around, Miss Briskett divined that behind the
curtains of the neighbouring houses the occupants were looking on with
admiring curiosity, and noting every detail of the girl's attire. If
Cornelia were self-willed and defiant, in appearance at least she was a
worthy representative of her race. The stern lines of the spinster's
mouth relaxed into an unwilling smile as she said urgently--

"But, my dear, the horse! I am responsible for your safety. Are you
quite sure that you are capable of managing him?"

Cornelia's ripple of amusement was sufficiently expressive. "One old
mare in a hired trap, when I've driven a four-in-hand over some of the
wickedest roads in America! If we are smashed, Aunt Soph, you can lay
it to providence, and not to my driving. Don't get to worrying if we
are late. If we're killed you'll hear all about it soon enough. You
can only die once, and a carriage spill is a good slick way of getting
it over."

"Cornelia, I insist--"

"Miss Cornelia, I beg--"

The cart dashed suddenly onward in response to a flip of the whip,
leaving the two old ladies upon the roadway, the unfinished appeal
frozen