“I won’t bet,” I answered; “but, if I find I can’t do it, I’ll make you a smoking-cap, or embroider your monogram on a set of handkerchiefs, or anything you like.”
“Come along, then,” said Reginald; “and make haste, before the girls catch sight of you.” With which, he held back my skirt from the wheels as I jumped into the high seat of the phaeton, mounted beside me, gave the small groom two seconds to spring to his perch behind, and, while I was settling the reins properly, the horses almost tore them from my grasp, and we swept down the street like a whirlwind.
“I’d rather not go through London, if any other way will do as well,” I suggested timidly, as soon as I had got my breath, and had become aware that the bays were very nearly a match for me, and not quite, and that, though my wrists would doubtless suffer afterwards, they were able to do what they had undertaken. I did not quite like the idea of not seeing more than a dozen yards before me at the pace we were going.
“Of course, we won’t go through London, Kitty. Good gracious, what an awful idea! We’ll drive about the squares here, where it is quiet, or we’ll make for the country, if you like.”
“Oh, yes, that is what I should like! I have been longing to see the real English country ever since I came. But where were you going yourself, Regy? Don’t let me interfere with your business.”
“I’ve no business, Kitty—none that matters. I’m only too glad to be in attendance upon you. The girls have never given me a chance yet. Now, where would you like to go? Are you sure those brutes are not pulling your arms off?”
“Quite sure,” I replied, gaily. “I have a tolerable set of muscles, though I am a woman, and I hope you perceive that I can drive, Captain Goodeve. As to where I would like to go, how can I tell? You must choose a pretty road for me.”
“All right. We’ll go to Richmond; that’s the prettiest place out, that I know of, within our reach. You are not in a hurry, I suppose?”
“No,” I answered, with reckless carelessness. “Being late for lunch isn’t like being late for dinner, is it? And I don’t think we were going to do anything particular this afternoon. Mother talked about South Kensington, but it was to please me. As far as she is concerned, she is happy if I am out in the air. She hates me to be cooped up as much as I hate it myself; and this will do me more good than fifty museums.”
So we “made for the country,” and a long time we were getting to it I thought, though the horses raged along as if it were a matter of life and death to be back punctually to lunch. The people on the pavements stared at us a great deal, particularly the men, two of whom, after nodding to Regy, stood quite still to survey us through their eye-glasses as we passed. I touched the horses with the whip, and nearly lost my command of them, so indignant was I at this cool impertinence. “If those are your friends, I don’t think much of their manners,” I remarked, as I tugged with main and might to keep my hands still.