"I am coming with you."
The assistant was a sharp lad and saw through the sieve. "Do not come, miss," he said, "you really must not see Sándor Decsi in such a state. It is enough to freeze one's marrow to look at his agony. Besides, the doctor would never allow it."
"It is just the doctor I want to speak to," said the girl.
"But then who will attend to the customers?"
"The servant-girl is here, and the lad, they'll manage."
"But at least ask the master's permission," begged Pesta.
"Not I!" cried Klári, "he would not let me go. There, get out of the way."
So saying, she pushed the assistant aside, flew out into the courtyard, and with one bound was seated in the gig. There she seized the reins, flourished the whip about the poor grey's back, and drove where she wished. The assistant left behind gasping, shouted after her,
"Miss Klári! Miss Klári! Stop a bit!" But though he ran till he was breathless, he only caught the gig at the bridge, where the tired horse had to go slowly up the incline. Then he too jumped on to the seat.
Never had the grey's back felt such thwacks as on this drive to Mata! By the time they reached the sandy ground, it could only go at a walk, and, the girl, impatient, sprang from the gig, and catching hold of the canister, rushed over the clover field to the doctor's farm, which she reached panting and speechless.