“Isn’t she a dear?” said Galatea.
“All aboard; git in,” said Gabriel. “Mind and be careful about the brake—it’s down-hill.”
With a grimace the Artist placed himself in the chauffeur’s seat. Gabriel handed him the reins.
“I’ll foller an’ bring back the mare,” he said. “Giddap, old gal.”
Cleopatra looked around, shook her head, and refused to budge. Gabriel laughed, and looked at Galatea.
“You’ll have to git in. You can’t fool the mare; she sees you’re dressed for drivin’.”
The Poet, with great gravity, helped his sister up beside the Artist. Galatea took the reins. At her cheerful, familiar chirrup Cleopatra stretched her fine muscles, and, while the colt pranced about, kicking up his heels in irrepressible joy at this warning to the horseless, dragged the ponderous, vanquished enemy into the road and away. Never before stepped a mare of pedigree so proudly, nor trailed along a Red Ripper so ignobly.
III
Pig-Malion and Galatea
“Galatea!” hailed the Poet from the bottom of the stairs.