It was dark by the time that the united efforts of Pip and the blacksmith restored the car to a state of kinetic energy, and it was more than two hours before Pip called at the "George" for his passengers. They climbed swiftly into the tonneau, and the car proceeded on its way. His charges were unusually silent, and Pip, turning suddenly to ask for a direction, surprised the Honourable in the act of kissing the Principal Boy's hands.
The Honourable departed next morning for London. In the afternoon the car was ordered round, and Miss Lottie announced her intention of receiving a driving-lesson. Pip instructed her to the best of his ability, and by constant vigilance and the occasional intervention of Providence succeeded in indefinitely prolonging the span of life of two old women, one cow, seven children, and innumerable cocks and hens.
Presently it began to rain.
"Never mind about putting up the hood, Armstrong," said Lottie. "It's a rotten affair—keeps no rain out. Let's run under those thick trees over there."
Pip took the wheel, and the car slid up a narrow lane and came to anchor under the thickest part of an arching grove of chestnuts.
"There," said the Principal Boy, removing her gloves, "I feel regularly done up. My hands are all of a shake after that beastly wheel. Am I improving?"
"You are a good deal steadier than you were—Miss," said Pip.
"That's all right. Much obliged for your help. You're a good sort, Armstrong."
"Armstrong" turned extremely pink.
"Look here," continued Lottie breezily, "I'm tired of calling you Armstrong. What's your name?"