"What do girls know about driving!" was the retort from the small piece of masculine science beside her. "Ask papa," said Daisy quietly. "Well, what do they know about horses, any how!" "I can _see_," said Daisy, whose manner of speech was somewhat slow and deliberate, and in the choice of words, like one who had lived among grown people. "I can observe." "See that, then!"--And a cut, smarter than ordinary, drove the pony to his last legs, namely, a gallop. Away they went; it was but a short-legged gallop after all; yet they passed along swiftly over the smooth gravel road. Great, beautiful trees overshadowed the ground on either side with their long arms; and underneath, the turf was mown short, fresh and green. Sometimes a flowering bush of some sort broke the general green with a huge spot of white or red flowers; gradually those became fewer, and were lost sight of; but the beautiful grass and the trees seemed to be unending. Then a gray rock here and there began to shew itself. Pony got through his gallop, and subsided again to a waddling trot. "This whip's the real thing," said the young driver, displaying and surveying it as he spoke; "that is a whip now, fit for a man to use." "A man wouldn't use it as you do," said Daisy. "It is cruel." "That's what _you_ think. I guess you'd see papa use a whip once in a while." "Besides, you came along too fast to see anything." "Well, I told you I was going to the church, and we hadn't time to go slowly. What did you come for?" "I suppose I came for some diversion," said Daisy with a sigh. "Ain't Loupe a splendid little fellow?" "Very; I think so." "Why, Daisy, what ails you? there is no fun in you to-day. What's the matter?" "I am concerned about something. There is nothing the matter." "Concerned about Loupe, eh!" "I am not thinking about Loupe. O Ransom! stop him; there's Nora Dinwiddie; I want to get out." [Illustration: THE CHURCH BY THE WINTERGREENS.]