Jasmine was spared the embarrassment of a reply by Edwy's pulling up with the governess-cart.
"Did you win?" both the younger brothers asked eagerly.
Edwy nodded absently; his whip had coiled itself round a lamp-post. Greetings between herself and this third cousin over, Jasmine was invited to get in and recommended to sit well forward and not get tangled up with the reins. Her box was placed opposite her, and the younger boys mounted.
"Good Gum," Edwy exclaimed with contempt. "We can't race anything with this load, can we?"
Jasmine, perceiving the narrow High Street of Silchester winding before her, was thankful for the news.
"I tell you what we could do," Edred suggested. "We could pretend that it was three chariots, and that we were all three driving one against the other."
Edwy considered this offer for a moment, then "Right-o" he agreed calmly, and off they went. It might have been less dangerous if Edwy had raced another cart as originally intended, because with the convention they were then following both his younger brothers had to have a hand on the reins. They also had to have a turn with the whip. The extraordinary thing to Jasmine was that this reeling progress down the High Street did not seem to attract a single glance. She commented on the public indifference, and the boys explained that the natives were used to them.
"Monday and Tuesday were much worse than we are," said Edred.
"Monday and Tuesday?"
"Edmund and Edgar. The pater was only a Canon Residentiary in those days. He's been Dean for six years now. He's the youngest Dean that ever lived. Or the youngest Dean alive; I forget which. Then he was Regius Professor of Anglo-Saxon at Oxford."