"I would give you the front seat," says good-natured George, "but I fear those very tiny little hands would never be able for the ribbons; and I have given the other to Miss Vernon." "Miss Beatoun, have my place," says Thornton, eagerly. "I dare say Miss Hastings will get on without me, even if she comes; and Powell can blow the horn." Dora comes forward gracefully. "Take mine," she says in spite of a reproachful glance from Sir George. "I don't in the least mind where I sit." "_Embarras des richesses!_" cries Bebe, laughing, putting up her hands to cover her ears. "Not for all the world, Miss Vernon. Thank you very much all the same. Did you think I was in earnest? If the truth be told, I like nothing better than the back seat on anything, if the horses be fast. There is something delicious, almost sensational, in finding ourself flying through the air without seeing what is taking one. I only hope I shan't fall off." "It will be Chandos's fault if you do," declares Sir George, "Do you hear, Chandos? You will have to keep your eyes open, and be careful every time we come to a corner." Bebe colors again, and glances at Lord Chandos, who by a curious coincidence she finds glancing at her. Their eyes meet. "Will you find the task too arduous?" she asks, mischievously, for once losing sight of her coldness. "I will tell you that when we return," replies he, answering her smile. Not until the others have well departed does Markham bring round the ponies; and as he puts the reins into my hands he utters a gentle warning. "I thought it safer to let the other horses get a bit of a start first, ma'am," he says. "You might spare the whip to-day, I'm thinking; they're that fresh as it will give you enough to do to hold 'em." "All right, Markham," says my companion, gayly; "I will see your mistress does not irritate them to madness." The pretty animals in question toss their heads knowingly, then lower them, and finally start away down the avenue, round the corner, pass the beeches, and out into the open road. The air is fresh and soft, the speed, to say the least of it enlivening, and for a mile or so I know thorough enjoyment then my arms, begin to drag. "How they do pull!" I say, with a petulant sigh. "Let me have the reins," exclaims Sir Mark, eagerly; "you will be exhausted if you try to hold those fretful creatures for the next six miles. You are hardly strong enough for the task." And, with a gesture that is almost relief I resign to him my seat. "That would be the nearest road to Carston, supposing we had started from Summerleas," I say presently, as we come to one particular turn. "Oh, how often, long ago, I used to travel it! What years and years and years seem to have gone by since last spring! What changes have occurred! and yet in reality only a few short months have passed." "Happy changes, I hope, Mrs. Carrington."