Looking back I would see her vainly appealing to surrounding nature
for a looking-glass to see what it was that had gone wrong with her.
"What is the matter with me," she would be crying to herself; "that
the very beasts of the field should shun me? Do they take me for a
gollywog?"
Halfway up the hill, the off-side grey turned his head and looked at
us. We were about a couple of hundred yards behind; it was a hot and
dusty day. He whispered to the near-side grey, and the near-side
grey turned and looked at us also. I knew what was coming. I've
been played the same trick before. I shouted to the boy, but it was
too late. They took the rest of the hill at a gallop and disappeared
over the brow. Had there been an experienced coachman behind them, I
should not have worried. Dick told his mother not to be alarmed, and
started off at fifteen miles an hour. I calculated I was doing about
ten, which for a gentleman past his first youth, in a frock suit
designed to disguise rather than give play to the figure, I consider
creditable. Robina, undecided whether to go on ahead with Dick or
remain to assist her mother, wasted vigour by running from one to the
other. Ethelbertha's one hope was that she might reach the wreckage
in time to receive Veronica's last wishes.
It was in this order that we arrived at the St. Leonards'. Veronica,
under an awning, sipping iced sherbet, appeared to be the centre of
the party.
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