“I can.”

“You can’t.”

“I can.”

“How?”

“I’m going with you,” he said.

“You’re not.”

“I am.”

“You’re not.”

I am”.

“You ar-r-re not.”

“I am”.

“You are, ar-r-re not.”

“We’ll see whether I will or not in a minute or two,” he said with amusement.

“But, Mr Betcham, I object to your company.  I am quite capable of taking care of myself; besides, if you come home with me I will not be allowed out alone again—­it will be altogether unpleasant for me.”

Mrs Butler now appeared with the mail and some parcels, and Harold stowed them in the buggy.

“You’d better come in an’ ’ave a drop of tay-warter, miss, the kittle’s bilin’; and I have the table laid out for both of yez.”

“No, thank you, Mrs Butler.  I can’t possibly stay today, it’s getting late.  I must hurry off.  Good-bye!  Good afternoon, Mr Beecham.”

I turned my buggy and pair smartly round and was swooping oil.  Without a word Harold was at their heads and seized the reins.  He seized his horse’s bridle, where it was over the paling, and in a moment had him tied on the off-side of Barney, then stepping quietly into the buggy he put me away from the driver’s seat as though I were a baby, quietly took the reins and whip, raised his hat to Mrs Butler, who was smiling knowingly, and drove off.

I was highly delighted with his action, as I would have despised him as a booby had he given in to me, but I did not let my satisfaction appear.  I sat as far away from him as possible, and pretended to be in a great huff.  For a while he was too fully occupied in making Barney “sit up” to notice me, but after a few minutes he looked round, smiling a most annoying and pleasant smile.

“I’d advise you to straighten out your chin.  It is too round and soft to look well screwed up that way,” he said provokingly.

I tried to extinguish him with a look, but it had not the desired effect.

“Now you had better be civil, for I have got the big end of the whip,” he said.

“I reserve to myself the right of behaving as I think fit in my own uncle’s buggy.  You are an intruder; it is yourself that should be civil.”

I erected my parasol and held it so as to tease Harold.  I put it down so that he could not see the horses.  He quietly seized my wrist and held it out of his way for a time, and then loosing me said, “Now, behave.”

I flouted it now, so that his cars and eyes were endangered, and he was forced to hold his hat on.

“I’ll give you three minutes to behave, or I’ll put you out,” he said with mock severity.

“Shure it’s me wot’s behavin’ beautiful,” I replied, continuing my nonsense.

He pulled rein, seized me in one arm, and lifted me lightly to the ground.

“Now, you can walk till you promise to conduct yourself like a Christian!” he said, driving at a walk.