“Now, cabby!” he cried, “keep your crawler back till we’re well away. You’d better let us go first, or we might pass you on the road, and hurt the feelings of that spirited beast of yours. Do you like going fast, Margery?”
“As fast as you like,” said I.
I knew nothing whatever of horses and donkeys, or of what their poor legs could bear; but I very much liked passing swiftly through the air. I do not think Neddy suffered, however, though we went back at a pace marvellously different from that at which we came. We were very light weights, and Master Neddy was an overfed, underworked gentleman, with the acutest discrimination as to his drivers. Jack’s voice was quite enough; the stick was superfluous. When we came to the top of the steep hill leading down to the village, Jack asked me, “Shall we go down a rattler?”
“Oh, do!” said I.
“Hold on to the hat-box, then, and don’t tumble out.”
Down we went. The carriage swayed from side to side; I sat with my arms tightly clasped round the hat-box, and felt as if I were flying straight down on to the church-tower. It was delightful, but I noticed that Jack did not speak till we reached the foot of the hill. Then he said, “Well, that’s a blessing! I never thought we should get safe to the bottom.”
“Then why did you drive so fast?” I inquired.
“My dear Margery, there’s no drag on this carriage; and when I’d once given Neddy his head he couldn’t stop himself, no more could I. But he’s a plucky, sure-footed little beast; and I shall walk up this hill out of respect for him.”
I resolved to do the same, and clambered out, leaving the hat-box on the seat. I went up to Jack, who was patting Neddy’s neck, on which he stuck out his right arm, and said, “Link!”
“What?” said I.