"Here are the facts: Mrs. Newbold has a pair of new ponies, George's latest gift, and her last fad; she drove me up with them the day I arrived, and I didn't care for their style particularly, they pulled too hard, and had an obstinate trick of catching at the bit that might prove nasty. Esther's groom on these occasions is Tony, elected, presumably, because of the smallness of his stature. You have seen Tony, and therefore know that he is mostly hat. "Very well, this morning being bright and cool, Mrs. Newbold decided to take little Marianne and Cissy Beverley for a drive; it was in vain both George and I pointed out to her that the ponies had not been exercised for the last two days, and would therefore be very fresh and too great a handful for her, she would not listen--her sex never will, you know, when advice runs against inclination--and woman-like, she must play with her latest toy. "So off they started, the children tucked in beside Mrs. Newbold, and Tony perched up behind. The little brutes were fresh enough, but Esther had them well in hand, and drove off in true workmanlike style. They had their drive, along the upper road, and round by the Bay, and so through the town to Beverley's house. Here Mrs. Newbold got out, letting Marianne hold the reins, with Tony at the ponies' heads. She lifted Cissy down, and was just turning to give a word of caution, when a cat, followed by Beverley's setter pup, ran out from the kitchen garden and flew directly under the ponies' heads. "Then came a sudden shying movement, the light carriage swayed dangerously, and then, with tossing heads, the little brutes broke loose from Tony's hold, took the bits between their teeth, and in a second were off on a dead run. "You will admit it was not a pleasant situation for Esther. She has since told me that her first intimation of danger was the sight of her darling's bright sunny hair and frightened blue eyes being borne away in the rocking, swaying carriage, as it sped down the drive, drawn by horses wild and young. "They passed the gate safely, and started off down the Terrace at a full gallop. And now my part comes in. I was walking leisurely up from the post-office when, as I neared Snug Harbour, I saw the ponies dashing towards me; in a second I recognised them; in that second they were past me. I started after them, but with a feeling of hopelessness, for who could hope to come up with their flying feet? And though the road was broad and open for several miles, little Marianne--whose piteous white face caught my eye as she was borne by me--might at any moment loose her hold and be dashed out, or dragged in the trailing reins.