"Now, lookye here, Betsy, once for all," said Mrs Dean angrily; "if you are going to drive like that, I stay at home. I like my bones, though they do ache sometimes, and I'm not going to have them broke to please you." Cora frowned, and softly took up the second rein with the effect of checking the ponies' rattling gallop just as heads were being turned and gentlemen on horseback were starting off in pursuit. "I ain't easily frightened, Betsy, you know," said Mrs Dean, panting. "Speaking as a woman as has faced a whole company in the bad days on treasury night, when there's been nothing in the cash-box, and your poor father off his head, I say I ain't easily frightened." "Now, mother--I mean mamma--how are we to get into society if you will refer so constantly to those wretched old days?" "They weren't wretched old days, my dear, and I was a deal happier then than I am now. But never mind; we've got our tickets. I knew old Denville would get 'em, and my Betsy'll startle some of 'em at the ball, I know. Hold 'em in tighter, my dear, do." "Don't be so foolishly nervous, mother. I have them well in hand." "But why does that one keep laying down its ears and squeaking, and trying to bite t'other one?" "Play," said Cora shortly. "Then I wish he'd play in the stable, and behave himself when he comes out on the cliff. My word, look at that old Drelincourt, Bet--Cora," said the old woman, giving her daughter a nudge. "Look at the nasty old thing in black. If she'd had any decency, she'd have left the place when her old sister was killed, instead of being pushed about in her chair like that." "But she has a house here of her own," said Cora shortly, as she guided her ponies in and out among the fashionable equipages, not one of whose lady occupants noticed her. "Look at 'em," whispered Mrs Dean, nudging her daughter again. "They're a-busting with envy, but they shall be civil to you yet. I did grudge the money for the turn out, and I told Ashley it was a swindle, but they do show off, and I'm glad I bought 'em. Look at the fine madams in that broosh; they're as envious as can be. Hit'm up, Cora, and make 'em go. I should like to see anybody else's gal with such a turn-out." Too showy, and with a suspicion of the circus in the style of the harness and the colours of the rosettes; but Cora Dean's pony carriage, driven as it was in masterly style, created no little sensation in Saltinville; and if, in addition to the salutes of the gentlemen, which she acknowledged very superciliously, only one lady would have bowed in recognition, Cora Dean would have enjoyed her drive, and probably have gone more slowly. As it was, in obedience to her mother's nudges and admonitions to "Hit 'm up again," she gave the ponies flick after flick with the whip, and increased the restiveness consequent upon plenty of spirit and too much corn.