The little party stopped when they had got some way down the lane, and Leigh began to fasten Fuzz to the perambulator. He had got everything ready—for he had secretly tried it before, and he had straps of the right length which he brought out of his pocket. Mary and Artie stood admiring his cleverness, but Baby Dolly was not pleased. She wanted to go on, and of course she did not understand what they were all stopping for. So she began to cry. Poor little girl, what else could she do?
“P’raps she’s cold,” said Mary. “It are raver cold standing still.”
“Cold, Miss Mary, oh dear no,” said Emma. “She’s that wrapped up she couldn’t be cold. But she’s very fractious to-day; she was crying and fretting all the time nurse was dressing her. Nurse spoils her—if she were my baby I’d be a bit sharper with her.”
“Poor Dolly—dear Dolly,” said Mary, going up to her little sister and trying to sooth her. “Don’t cry—Dolly’s going to have a beauty drive and go so fast.”
“Get out of the way, Mary,” shouted Leigh. “We’re just starting, don’t you see?”
He held the reins in his hand and ran back behind the perambulator. Then he made Emma take her place as usual, holding the bar—not that there was any need for her, he said, but just to make quite sure of Fuzz not running away—they were a funny-looking party, Emma between the reins and Fuzzy wagging his tail in his hurry to be off. Dolly left off crying and stared about her, wondering what it all meant.
“Gee-up, old fellow,” said Leigh, Emma giving a little starting push at the same time, and off they went, Mary and Artie at each side, breathless with excitement.
At first it seemed all right. They went slowly, and Fuzzy did nothing worse than stand still every minute or two, and look over his shoulder to see what was behind him. The first and second times he did this Leigh only called out, “All right, old fellow—gee-up then.” But when it got to the third and fourth time Leigh grew impatient.
“Get on with you, you stupid fellow,” he shouted, cracking the whip he held.
And poor Fuzzy, meaning no harm, not understanding what all the unusual noise and fuss were about, did the only thing he could—he did “get on.” He started off, running as fast as he could, and that was pretty fast, for the carriage was very light and Emma was pushing—she could not have helped pushing as she was holding the bar and running. And for a minute or two she laughed so that she could not speak. The silly girl thought it was such fun. And seeing her laughing, Leigh thought it was all right and laughed too. But—on went Fuzz, excited by the laughter, and thinking he was doing all right, till—at the corner where the lane they were in crossed another lane or road, wider but much rougher, and full of deep cart-ruts—instead of keeping straight on he turned sharply round, for some doggy reason or other, and rushed, still at the same speed, along this road to the right.