"I say, Giles," said Rupert, who was sitting on the box beside the coachman, "I wish you'd let me drive for a bit; I can manage all right, you know."
"No, no, thank'ee, Master Rupert," was the decided reply, "I don't trust the reins in your hands, not if I knows it."
"What rubbish!" ejaculated the boy irritably. "When I can drive as well as you."
Giles took no notice of this remark, however. Presently, before coming to a somewhat steep hill, the coachman drew up. He could see that one of the straps required a little attention. Giving the reins into Rupert's hands for a moment, he stepped down to see to the matter. Just as the man was thinking of getting up again into his seat, Rupert, seized with a spirit of mischief, flicked the mare with the whip. She immediately started off.
"All right, Giles," shouted Rupert with a laugh, "we'll wait for you at the bottom of the hill."
Giles's face was a study of mingled wrath and alarm.
"Rupert!" cried Kenneth, "What are you doing, you silly young donkey?"
"Donkey yourself!" was Rupert's quick retort. "I'm only going a little way, just for a lark!"
But, alas for Rupert's "lark," a whizzing motor presently came along behind, and passed them with a loud "toot-toot."
Now it chanced that Peggy the mare was decidedly fresh that morning, and, the sudden noise startling her, she dashed off with tremendous speed.