“Shabby isn't the word,” said Arabella; “if you ask me, I call her whole style flashy—as flashy as it can stick.” CHAPTER IV.—A MATTER OF TWENTY POUNDS. This is jolly!” exclaimed Missy, settling herself comfortably at the old man's side as she handed him back the reins. They had just jogged out of the lowest paddock, and Mr. Teesdale had been down to remove the slip-rails and to replace them after Missy had driven through. “Very nicely done,” the farmer said, in his playful, kindly fashion. “I see you've handled the ribbons before.” “Never in my life!” “Indeed? I should have thought that with all them horses and carriages every one of you would have learnt to ride and drive.” “Yes, you would think so,” Missy said, after a pause; “but in my case you'd think wrong. I can't bear horses, so I tell you straight. One flew at me when I was a little girl, and I've never gone near 'em since.” “Flew at you!” exclaimed Mr. Teesdale. “Nay, come!” “Well, you know what I mean. I'd show you the bite——” “Oh, it bit you? Now I see, now I see.” “You saw all along!” “No, it was such a funny way of putting it.” “You knew what I meant,” persisted Missy. “If you're going to make game of me, I'll get down and walk. Shall we be back in Melbourne by seven?” Mr. Teesdale drew out his watch with a proud smile and a tender hand. He loved consulting it before anybody, but Missy's presence gave the act a special charm. He shook his head, however, in answer to her question. “We'll not do it,” said he; “it's ten past six already.” “Then how long is it going to take us?” “Well, not much under the hour; you see——” A groan at his side made Mr. Teesdale look quickly round; and there was trouble under the heavy fringe. “I must be there soon after seven!” cried the girl petulantly. “Ay, but where, Missy? I'll do my best,” said David, snatching up the whip, “if you'll tell me where it is you want to be.” “It's the Bijou Theatre—I'm supposed to be there by seven—to meet the people I'm staying with, you know.” David had begun to use the whip vigorously, but now he hesitated and looked pained. “I am sorry to hear it's a theatre you want to get to,” said he gravely. “Why, do you think them such sinks of iniquity—is that it?” asked the girl, laughing. “I never was in a theatre in my life, Missy; I don't approve of them, my dear.” “No more do I—no more do I! But when you're staying with people you can't always be your own boss, now can you?” “You could with us, Missy.” “Well, that's bully; but I can't with these folks. They're regular terrors for the theatre, the folks I'm staying with now, and I don't know what they'll say if I keep 'em waiting long. Think you can do it?” “Not by seven; but I think we might get there between five and ten minutes past.” “Thank God!”