"Fred might drive you," said Carey; "O no, poor fellow, I suppose he does not know how."
Fred coloured with anger. "I do," said he; "I have often driven our own horses."
"Ay," said Beatrice, "with the coachman sitting by you, and Aunt Mary little guessing what you were doing."
"I assure you, Queen," said Fred, very earnestly, "I do really know how to drive, and if we may have the gig, and you will trust yourself with me, I will bring you home quite safe."
"I know you can have the gig," said Carey, "for papa offered it to Roger and Alex this morning; only we chose all to walk together. To think of doubting whether to drive old Dumple!"
"I don't question," said Fred; "I only want to know if Busy Bee will go. I won't break your neck, I promise you."
Beatrice was slightly mistrustful, and had some doubts about Aunt Mary, but poor Alex did much to decide her, though intending quite the reverse.
"I don't advise you, Bee," said he.
"O, as to that," said she, pleased to see that he disliked the plan, "I have great faith in Dumple's experience, and I can sit tight in a chay, as the boy said to grandpapa when he asked him if he could ride. My chief doubt is about Aunt Mary."
Fred's successful disobedience in the matter of skating had decidedly made him less scrupulous about showing open disregard of his mother's desires, and he answered in a certain superior patronizing manner, "O, you know I only give way sometimes, because she does make herself so intensely miserable about me; but as she will be spared all that now, by knowing nothing about it, I don't think it need be considered."
Beatrice recollected what her father had said, but eluded it the next moment, by replying to herself, that no commands had been given in this case.
Alex stood fumbling with the button of his great coat, looking much annoyed, and saying nothing; Roger called out to him that they could not wait all day, and he exerted himself to take Beatrice by the arm, and say, "Bee, I wish you would not, I am sure there will be a blow up about it at home."
"O, you think nobody can or may drive me but yourself, Master Alex," said Beatrice, laughing. "No, no, I know very well that nobody will care when it is done, and there are no commands one way or the other. I love my own neck, I assure you, Alex, and will not get that into a scrape. Come, if that will put you into a better humour, I'll dance with you first to-night." Alex turned away, muttering, "I don't like it-I'd go myself, but-Well, I shall speak to Fred."
Beatrice smiled with triumph at the jealousy which she thought she had excited, and watched to see the effect of the remonstrance.
"You are sure now," said he, "that you can drive safely? Remember it would be a tolerable piece of work if you were to damage that little Bee."
This eloquent expostulation might have had some weight, if it had come from any one else; but Fred was too much annoyed at the superiority of his rival to listen with any patience, and he replied rather sullenly, that he could take as good care of her as Alex himself, and he only wished that their own horses were come from Rocksand.
"Well, I have no more to say," said Alex, "only please to mind this, Langford junior, you may do just as you please with our horse, drive him to Jericho for what I care. It was for your own sake and Beatrice's that I spoke."
"Much obliged, Langford senior," replied Fred, making himself as tall as he could, and turning round to Carey with a very different tone, "Now, Carey, we won't stop you any longer, if you'll only just be so good as to tell your man to get out the gig."
Carey did so, and Beatrice and Frederick were left alone, but not long, for Uncle Roger presently came into the yard with Willy and Arthur running after him. To take possession of his horse and carriage, in his very sight, without permission, was quite impossible, and, besides, Beatrice knew full well that her dexterity could obtain a sanction from him which might be made to parry all blame. So tripping up to him, she explained in a droll manner the distress in which the charade actors stood, and how the boys had said that they might have Dumple to drive to Allonfield. Good natured Uncle Roger, who did not see why Fred should not drive as well as Alex or any of his other boys, knew little or nothing of his sister-in-law's fears, and would, perhaps, have taken Fred's side of the question if he had, did exactly as she intended, declared them perfectly welcome to the use of Dumple, and sent Willy into the house for the driving whip. Thus authorized, Beatrice did not fear even her father, who was not likely to allow in words what a nonentity the authority of Uncle Roger might really be esteemed.
Willy came back with a shilling in his hand, and an entreaty that he might go with Queen Bee and Fred to buy a cannon for the little ships, of which Roger's return always produced a whole fleet at Sutton Leigh. His cousins were in a triumphant temper of good nature, and willingly consenting, he was perched between them, but for one moment Beatrice's complacency was diminished as Uncle Roger called out, "Ha! Fred take care! What are you doing?-you'll be against the gate-post-don't bring his head so short round. If you don't take more care, you'll certainly come to a smash before you get home."
If honour and credit had not been concerned, both Beatrice and Frederick would probably have been much better satisfied to have given up their bold design after this debut, but they were far too much bent on their own way to yield, and Fred's pride would never have allowed him to acknowledge that he felt himself unequal to the task he had so rashly undertaken. Uncle Roger, believing it to be only carelessness instead of ignorance, and too much used to dangerous undertakings of his own boys to have many anxieties on their account, let them go on without further question, and turned off to visit his young wheat without the smallest uneasiness respecting the smash he had predicted, as he had done, by way of warning, at least twenty times before.
Busy Bee was in that stage of girlhood which is very sensible on some points, in the midst of great folly upon others, and she was quite wise enough to let Fred alone, to give full attention to his driving all the way to Allonfield. Dumple knew perfectly well what was required of him, and went on at a very steady well-behaved pace, up the hill, across the common, and into the town, where, leaving him at the inn, they walked into the street, and Beatrice, after an infinity of searching, succeeded in obtaining certain grey cotton velvet, which, though Fred asserted that donkeys had a tinge of lilac, was certainly not unfit to represent their colour. As Fred's finances were in a much more flourishing state since New Year's day, he proceeded to delight the very heart of Willy by a present of a pair of little brass cannon, on which his longing eyes had often before been fixed, and they then returned to the carriage, in some dismay on perceiving that it was nearly one o'clock.
"We must go straight home," said Beatrice, "or this velvet will be of no use. There is no time to drive to Sutton Leigh and walk from thence."
Unfortunately, however, there was an influential personage who was by no means willing to consent to this arrangement, namely, Dumple, who, well aware that an inexperienced hand held the reins, was privately determined that his nose should not be turned away from the shortest road to his own stable.
As soon, therefore, as he came to the turning towards Sutton Leigh, he made a decided dash in that direction. Fred pulled him sharply, and a little nervously; the horse resisted; Fred gave him a cut with the whip, but Dumple felt that he had the advantage, and replying with a demonstration of kicking, suddenly whisked round the corner, and set off over the rough jolting road at a pace very like running away. Fred pulled hard, but the horse went the faster. He stood up. "Sit still," cried Beatrice, now speaking for the first time, "the gate will stop him;" but ere the words were uttered, Frederick, whether by a movement of his own, or the rapid motion of the carriage, she knew not, was thrown violently to the ground; and as she was whirled on, she saw him no more. Instinct, rather than presence of mind, made her hold fast to the carriage with one hand, and throw the other arm round little Willy, to prevent him from being thrown out, as they were shaken from side to side by the ruts and stones over which they were jolted. A few minutes more, and their way was barred by a gate-that which she had spoken of-the horse, used to stopping there, slackened his pace, and stood still, looking over it as if nothing had happened.