"One minute won't matter."
"Not unless the horses object."
The horses plainly did object. A vision of food and stable no doubt lured them onward, and they had at all times a marked dislike to standing still in harness. They grew exceedingly restless, and Harvey's strong grasp could barely hold them in.
A broad common stretched far ahead, and the road led straight across it, while on either side lay short grass dotted by occasional clumps of furze.
"Make haste!" cried Harvey.
John obeyed, coming at a run. They had not to wait many seconds, and he was already within six yards when a pig rushed grunting from behind the nearest clump.
That settled the matter. Almost before Julia caught sight of the intruder the horses were off, and John could be seen as a diminishing object in the distance.
Julia uttered no sound, for she knew her husband's dislike to interjections at critical moments. Not that she counted the moment critical. She merely said to herself, "How tiresome!" and expected that Harvey would at once pull up.
But he did not. A feeling of surprise dawned upon her first, and then a consciousness of the tremendous pace at which they were going, and then—she looked up into Harvey's face, and knew from the set lips that something was wrong.
"John is so far behind. Must we not go back?" she asked.