Perhaps Jack was a little annoyed at himself for his freedom of speech, for he said nothing farther that was disagreeable, until he found that his father had ordered the dog-cart to take the visitor back to Masterton. When he came out in the summer twilight, and found the mare harnessed for such an ignoble purpose, his soul was hot within him. If it had been any other horse in the stable--but that his favorite mare should carry the junior clerk down to his humble dwelling-place, was bitterness to Jack. He stood and watched in a very uncomfortable sort of way, with his hands in his pockets, while Powys took his leave. The evening was as lovely as the day had been, and Sara too had come out, and stood on the steps, leaning on her father’s arm. “Shall you drive, sir?” the groom had asked, with a respect which sprang entirely from his master’s cordiality. It was merely a question of form, for the man expected nothing but a negative; but Powys’s countenance brightened up. He held out his hands for the reins with a readiness which perhaps savored more of transatlantic freedom than ought to have been the case; but then he had been deprived of all such pleasures for so long. “Good heavens!” cried Jack, “Tomkins, what do you mean? It’s the bay mare you have in harness. He can’t drive _her_. If she’s lamed, or if she lames you--” And he went up to the side of the dog-cart, almost as if he would have taken the reins out of Powys’s hand. The Canadian grew very red, and grasped the whip. They were very ready for a quarrel--Jack standing pale with anger, talking with the groom; Powys red with indignation, holding his place. But it was the latter who had the most command of himself. “I shall not lame her,” he said quietly, “nor let any one be lamed; jump up.” He was thus master of the situation. The groom took his place; the mare went off straight and swift as an arrow down the avenue. But Jack knew by the look, as he said, of the fellow’s wrist, by the glance in his eye, that he knew what he was about, though he did not at this moment confess the results of his observation. They stood all three on the steps when that fiery chariot wheeled away; and Jack, to tell the truth, did not feel very much satisfied with himself. “Jack,” said Mr. Brownlow, calmly, “when I have any one here again, I must require of you to keep from insulting them. If you do not care for the feelings of the stranger, you may at least have some regard for yourself.” “I had no intention of insulting any one, sir,” said Jack, with a little defiance; “if you like him to break his neck or the horse’s knees it is not my affair; but for a fellow who probably never had the reins in his hand before, to attempt with that mare--”