jogging on and forcing us to jog on, neither going ahead herself nor suffering us to do so,—­a perfect and most provoking dog in a manger.  Her girl-associate would look behind every now and then to take observations, and I mentally hoped that the frisky Bucephalus would frisk his mistress out of the cart and break her ne—­ arm, or at least put her shoulder out of joint.  If he did, I had fully determined in my own mind to hasten to her assistance and shame her to death with delicate and assiduous kindness.  But fate lingered like all the rest of us.  She reached Rowley in safety, and there our roads separated.  Whether she stopped there, or drove into Ethiopian wastes beyond, I cannot say; but I have no doubt that the milk which she carried into Newburyport to market was blue, the butter frowy, and the potatoes exceedingly small.

Now do you mean to tell me that any man would have been guilty of such a thing?  I don’t mean, would have committed such discourtesy to a woman?  Of course not; but would a man ever do it to a man?  Never.  He might try it once or twice, just for fun, just to show off his horse, but he never would have persisted in it till a joke became an insult, not to say a possible injury.

Still, as I was about to say, when that Rowley jade interrupted me, though I have small faith in Di-Vernonism generally, and no large faith in my own personal prowess, I did feel myself equal to the task of holding the reins while our Rosinante walked along an open road to a pump.  I therefore resented Halicarnassus’s contemptuous tones, mounted the wagon with as much dignity as wagons allow, sat straight as an arrow on the driver’s seat, took the reins in both hands,—­as they used to tell me I must not, when I was a little girl, because that was women’s way, but I find now that men have adopted it, so I suppose it is all right,—­and proceeded to show, like Sam Patch, that some things can be done as well as others.  Halicarnassus and the Anakim took up their position in line on the other side of the road, hat in hand, watching.

“Go fast, and shame them,” whispered Grande, from the back-seat, and the suggestion jumped with my own mood.  It was a moment of intense excitement.  To be or not to be.  I jerked the lines.  Pegasus did not start.

“C-l-k-l-k!” No forward movement.

“Huddup!” Still waiting for reinforcements.

“H-w-e.” (Attempt at a whistle.  Dead failure.)

(Sotto voce.) “O you beast!” (Pianissimo.) “Gee!  Haw! haw! haw!” with a terrible jerking of the reins.

A voice over the way, distinctly audible, utters the cabalistic words, “Two forty.”  Another voice, as audible, asks, “Which’ll you bet on?” It was not soothing.  It did seem as if the imp of the perverse had taken possession of that terrible nag to go and make such a display at such a moment.  But as his will rose, so did mine, and as my will went up, my whip went with it; but before it came down, Halicarnassus made shift to drone out, “Wouldn’t Flora go faster, if she was untied?”