I don’t know whether all nightingales do this, or if it is peculiar to this particular spot. When they have sung it once they clear their throats a little, and hesitate, and then do it again, and it is the prettiest little song in the world. How could I indulge my passion for these drives with their pauses without Peter? He is so used to them that he stops now at the right moment without having to be told, and he is ready to drive me all night if I wish it, with no sign of anything but cheerful willingness on his nice old face.
The brightness of Peter’s perfections is sullied, however, by one spot, and that is, that as age creeps upon him, he not only cannot hold the horses in if they don’t want to be held in, but he goes to sleep sometimes on his box if I have him out too soon after lunch, and has upset me twice within the last year—once last winter out of a sleigh, and once this summer, when the horses shied at a bicycle, and bolted into the ditch on one side of the high-road, and the bicycle was so terrified at the horses shying that it shied too into the ditch on the other side, and the carriage was smashed, and the bicycle was smashed, and we were all very unhappy, except Peter, who never lost his pleasant smile, and looked so placid that my tongue clave to the roof of my mouth when I tried to make it scold him.
“But I should think he ought to have been thoroughly scolded on an occasion like that,” said Minora, to whom I had been telling this story as we wandered on the yellow sands while the horses were being put in the sleigh; and she glanced nervously up at Peter, whose mild head was visible between the bushes above us. “Shall we get home before dark?” she asked.
The sun had altogether disappeared behind the pines and only the very highest of the little clouds were still pink; out at sea the mists were creeping up, and the sails of the fishing-smacks had turned a dull brown; a flight of wild geese passed across the disk of the moon with loud cacklings.
“Before dark?” echoed Irais; “I should think not. It is dark now nearly in the forest, and we shall have the loveliest moonlight drive back.”
“But it is surely very dangerous to let a man who goes to sleep drive you,” said Minora apprehensively.
“But he’s such an old dear,” I said.