"I really must get over," I said emphatically; "surely Miss Smith can lend us one of her carriages. You might ask her future husband."
"Can't do that. Sir," replied the ostler; "for we none of us know him. However, I'll see what can be done for you. Could you drive yourself over?"
"Oh, do Papa," shouted my two sons in an ecstasy of delight. "It would be such fun! and mother isn't here to stop you."
"Well, I will have a shot at it," I returned; "although truth to tell I am a little rusty. I have not driven for some time."
The ostler eyed me rather sharply, and retired. I then thought it my duty to reprove my sons for their ill-timed levity, explaining that their tomfoolery might have caused the ostler to refuse to entrust his equipage to my care.
"But you have never driven in your life?" said George Lewis Herschell. "Have you, Papa?"
"I cannot say that I have," I replied, with that truthfulness which is the characteristic of my dealings in the domestic circle.
"Oh, what a game!" shouted Edward Clarke Russell, roaring with laughter.
Severely chiding my offspring, I proceeded to the hall door. The ostler had been as good as his word. There was certainly a conveyance.
"It is not very showy, Sir," said the proprietor; "but I think it will last a dozen of miles or so."