“Every ounce will tell,” said he. “We’ll leave that dinner-basket behind. And you can keep my dog for me, Coppinger. You know him and understand him. Let him have his warm milk and curaçoa the same as usual. Whoa, my darlings, you’ll have your fill of it before you reach Westminster Bridge.” “Shall I put in the toilet-case?” asked the landlord. I saw the struggle upon my uncle’s face, but he was true to his principles. “Put it under the seat—the front seat,” said he. “Nephew, you must keep your weight as far forward as possible. Can you do anything on a yard of tin? Well, if you can’t, we’ll leave the trumpet. Buckle that girth up, Thomas. Have you greased the hubs, as I told you? Well, jump up, nephew, and we’ll see them off.” Quite a crowd had gathered in the Old Square: men and women, dark-coated tradesmen, bucks from the Prince’s Court, and officers from Hove, all in a buzz of excitement; for Sir John Lade and my uncle were two of the most famous whips of the time, and a match between them was a thing to talk of for many a long day. “The Prince will be sorry to have missed the start,” said my uncle. “He doesn’t show before midday. Ah, Jack, good morning! Your servant, madam! It’s a fine day for a little bit of waggoning.” As our tandem came alongside of the four-in-hand, with the two bonny bay mares gleaming like shot-silk in the sunshine, a murmur of admiration rose from the crowd. My uncle, in his fawn-coloured driving-coat, with all his harness of the same tint, looked the ideal of a Corinthian whip; while Sir John Lade, with his many-caped coat, his white hat, and his rough, weather-beaten face, might have taken his seat with a line of professionals upon any ale-house bench without any one being able to pick him out as one of the wealthiest landowners in England. It was an age of eccentricity, but he had carried his peculiarities to a length which surprised even the out-and-outers by marrying the sweetheart of a famous highwayman when the gallows had come between her and her lover. She was perched by his side, looking very smart in a flowered bonnet and grey travelling-dress, while in front of them the four splendid coal-black horses, with a flickering touch of gold upon their powerful, well-curved quarters, were pawing the dust in their eagerness to be off. “It’s a hundred that you don’t see us before Westminster with a quarter of an hour’s start,” said Sir John. “I’ll take you another hundred that we pass you,” answered my uncle. “Very good. Time’s up. Good-bye!” He gave a _tchk_ of the tongue, shook his reins, saluted with his whip; in true coachman’s style, and away he went, taking the curve out of the square in a workmanlike fashion that fetched a cheer from the crowd. We heard the dwindling roar of the wheels upon the cobblestones until they died away in the distance.