And very soon—in a few minutes, indeed—the carriage was beneath the windows: coachman on the box, footman at the door, maidservant descending the steps with rugs, all in order. It did not occur to Vincent to ask how those horses came to be harnessed in so miraculously brief a space of time; he accepted anything that might befall; he was as clay in the hands of the potter. And really the two girls did their best to make things lively—as they drove away he knew not, and cared not, whither. The younger sister was rather more subdued, perhaps; but the elder fairly went daft, as the saying is; and her gaiety was catching. Not but that she could be dexterous in the midst of her madness. For example, she was making merry over the general inaptitude of Englishmen for speech-making; and was describing scenes she had herself witnessed in both Houses of Parliament, when she suddenly checked herself. "At all events," she said, "I will say this for your House of Commons, that there are a number of very good-looking men in it. No one can deny that. But the House of Lords—whew! You know, my contention is that my pedigree is just as long as that of any of your lords; but I’ve got to admit that, some of them more nearly resemble their ancestors—I mean their quadrumanous ancestors—" "Louie!" said the sister, reprovingly. And she was going on to say some very nice things about the House of Commons (as contrasted with the Upper Chamber) when Vincent happened to look out into the now gathering dusk. "Why," said he, "we’re at Rottingdean; and we’re at the foot of an awfully steep hill; I must get out and walk up." "No, no, no," said Miss Drexel, impatiently. "The horses have done nothing all day but hang about the church door. You English are so absurdly careful of your horses: more careful of them than of yourselves—as I’ve noticed myself at country houses in wet weather. I wonder, when I get back home, if the people will believe me when I tell them that I’ve actually seen horses in England with leather shoes over their feet to keep the poor things warm and comfortable. Yes, in this very town of Brighton—" But here Miss Louie had the laugh turned against her, when he had gravely to inform her that horses in England wore over-shoes of leather, not to keep their feet warm, but to prevent their cutting the turf when hauling a lawn-roller. "But where are we going?" said he again. "Oh, never mind," she answered, pertly. "All right—all right," he said, and he proceeded to ensconce himself still more snugly in the back seat. "Well, now, since you’ve told us of all the absurd and ludicrous things you’ve seen in England, won’t you tell us of some of the things you have admired? We can’t be insane on every point, surely." "I know what you think I am," she said of a sudden. "A comparison-monger." "You were born in America," he observed. "And you despise people who haven’t the self-sufficiency, the stolid satisfaction, of the English."