“It’s the exhilarating effect of our fast driving. Do you think that you could stand a faster pace?”
“Why, if you’re not afraid of tiring the horse. He seems to be going like the wind now.”
“Oh, he won’t mind. Faster, James.”
“Why do you say that to James? Did you think he was driving, you absent-minded dear, you?”
“I did, for the moment.”
James was sure he was driving, and at this command from his employer he put on almost the full force of the electricity. The wagon gave a leap forward, and turning into a macadamized road at this point, they went along at the rate of twenty miles an hour.
Mrs. Tucker clutched her husband’s arm. “John, his speed is uncanny. We seem to be going like an express-train!”
“It’s the smoothness of the road and his perfect breeding, my dear. Do you notice that this furious gait does not seem to affect his wind at all?”
“No, I hadn’t noticed it; but isn’t it queer how regular his hoof-beats are? and they do not seem to quicken their rate at all.”
John had noticed this, too, and he had regretted not having told the manufacturer to arrange the mechanism so that the hoof-beats would become more or less rapid according to the gait; but he answered quickly: