upon their lips. Elma turned round to wave an abashed adieu, the
long habit of servitude struggling with a delicious new sense of liberty
and adventure.

"Oh--oh, Cornelia, if you could only _see_ them! They are standing
stock-still, staring after us. They look petrified! ... It _was_
naughty of you. You frightened your aunt on purpose."

"That's so!" assented Cornelia, frankly. "I meant to do it. It's going
to hurt me a lot more than it does her, as the mommar said when she
spanked the nipper, but she's got just as set as a fossil, paddling
along in this little backwater, and imagining it's the whole big ocean,
and there's no one on hand to rouse her but myself. It's my mission.
Wake up, England!" and she flourished her whip dramatically as the mare
trotted through the south gateway of the park.

Outside the gate lay a smooth wide road stretching uphill, and in
response to a movement of Elma's outstretched hand, Cornelia turned the
mare in this direction, flashing a radiant smile into the pink-and-white
face.

"Well?"

"Well what?"

"How do you feel?"

"Excited!--As if something were going to happen!"

Cornelia nodded sagely.

"Perhaps it is; there's no saying. I've seen horses I'd sooner trust in
a scrimmage, but a little spill would do you no harm. You're skeery as
a cat. You want nerve, my dear, nerve!" Cornelia flicked her whip
round the horse's ears to give emphasis to her words, and chuckled with
mischievous amusement as Elma clutched the seat, and gasped in dismay.

"I call this crawling, not driving. When we get out into the real
country I'll make her go, so we get some fresh air into our lungs, then
you can hold on if you like, but don't pay before the show begins. Now,
then--where are we bound?"

Elma cast down her eyes, faintly blushing beneath her hat. Surely there
was something infectiously electric in the air this afternoon, or why
should her thoughts fly as an arrow from the bow to just that very spot
which it should have been her maidenly duty to avoid? She blushed at
her own audacity; telling herself sternly that she ought to be ashamed;
held the temptation afar off, looking at it, longing after it,
regretfully deciding to cast it aside, then with a sudden impetuous
change of front, hugged it to her breast. Yes, she would! For one
afternoon, one golden, glorious afternoon, she would send prudence to
the winds, and follow her own instincts. After all, why not? Because