"I know it!" exclaimed Mr. Royden. "I will keep cool."
He laid down the reins, and took his seat quietly on the horse-block, wiping the perspiration from his brow.
"Let affairs take their course," said he. "If we don't get to meeting at all, it will not be my fault. I have done my best."
"Mother, why don't you come?" cried Sarah, impatiently.
Mrs. Royden bustled out of the house, pulling on her gloves. Her husband helped her up very deliberately, then took his seat calmly and coolly with Father Brighthopes. At length they started, Sam holding the large gate open as they drove through.
"Hepsy!" cried Mrs. Royden, looking back.
Mr. Royden stopped the horses.
"You needn't stop. I can tell her what I want to."
"If you have any directions for her, we may as well wait," said he, quietly.
"Drive on, if you are in such a hurry," retorted Mrs. Royden. "I only wanted to tell her something about the spare-rib. I thought I could make her understand."