More than five miles had slipped away under those swiftly-moving runners ere Ruth was suddenly seized with a desire to emulate a famous charioteer of olden time, one “Phæton, of whom the histories have sung, in every meter, and every tongue,” if a certain poet may be relied upon. So, turning a beguiling face toward the unsuspecting Michael beside her, she said:
“You’re a fine driver, aren’t you, Michael?”
“’T is experience ivery man nades; I’ve had me own,” observed Michael, complacently.
“It must be very hard to drive four horses at once.”
“Anny one what kin droive two dacently should be able enough to handle four; ’t is not the number of horses, but the sinse at the other ind av the reins.”
“Is that so? I thought it needed a strong man to drive so many.”
“Indade, no; it does not that. I’ve seen a schmall, little man, hardly bigger than yerself, takin’ six along with the turn av his hand.”
“Could he hold them if they started to go fast?”
“Certain as the woirld, he cud do that same. ’T was meself that taught him the thrick av it. ’T is easy larnt.”
“Then teach me right now, will you?”