"I do not object; but is my deep mourning suited to these gayeties, Mr. De Burgh?"
"Well, no. I beg your pardon. Mrs. Ormonde started it, you know. I fancy it would take double-distilled mourning to keep her out of the swim."
"It is impossible for one nature to judge another which is totally different, fairly."
"Very true and very prudent. I have not got to the bottom of your character yet, but I am pursuing my studies," said De Burgh, with a grim sort of smile. "You see they are settling down to their work now," pointing his whip to the ponies. "I'll give you the reins in a minute or two."
"I think I ought to begin with something quieter," said Katherine, looking at them uneasily.
De Burgh laughed. "There is a nice stretch of level road before us—nothing to interfere with you. Change places with me, if you please. Here, put the reins between your fingers—so; now a turn of the wrist guides them. I'll hold your hand for a bit. You had better not let the whip touch them—so. There you are. I'll show you how to handle the ribbons before you are a fortnight older; that is if you will come out every day with me."
"Would you take that trouble?" exclaimed Katherine.
"I can take a good deal of trouble if I like my work. Now hold them steady, and keep your eye on them. When we come to the trees, on there, turn to the left."
"So far there doesn't seem to be much difficulty; they seem to go all right of their own accord," she said, after a few minutes.
"They are a capital pair; but there is nothing to disturb them."