uiet picnic and letting him in for an expedition like this.

"Well," said I, "suppose we let him drive home, and you and I go back
some other way?"

"You forget I'm responsible for the trap. No, we'd better go on as we
are. We've not come to grief so far. Perhaps, though," said he, "you'd
sooner drive?"

"What's that about sooner drive?" shouted Whipcord, coming up at this
moment. "Who'd sooner drive? You, young Batchelor? All right; off
with your coat!" And he threw himself on me in a pugilistic attitude.

After a long delay we got once more under way, the vehicle travelling
more unsteadily than ever, and my misgivings as to ever reaching London
becoming momentarily more numerous.

How we ever got back I can't imagine, unless it was that after a time
Whipcord finally dropped the reins and allowed the horse to find its own
way home. He certainly thought he was driving, but I fancy the truth
was that one of the ostlers on the road, seeing his condition, had
cunningly looped the reins round the front rail of the trap, so that,
drive all he would, he could not do much more harm than if he was
sitting idle.

At length the lateness of the hour and the frequent lights announced
that London must be near. It was fortunate it was so late, or we should
certainly have come to grief in the first crowded street. As it was,
Whipcord had already got command of the reins again, as the sudden jerks
and shies of the horse testified.

My impulse was to avoid the danger by quietly jumping down from my seat
and leaving the other two to proceed alone. But somehow it seemed a
shabby proceeding to leave Hawkesbury in the lurch, besides which, even
if I had overcome that scruple, the seat was so high that at the
unsteady rate we were going I would run considerable risk by jumping.
So I determined to hold on and hope for the best.

We got safely down Oxford Street, thanks to its emptiness, and were just
proceeding towards Holborn, when Whipcord gave his horse a sudden turn
down a side street to the right.

"Where are you going?" I cried; "it's straight on."

He pulled up immediately, and bidding Hawkesbury hold the reins, pulled
off his coat for the twentieth time, and invited me to come and have it
out on the pavement.

"Don't be a fool," said Hawkesbury; "drive on now, there's a good
fellow."

"What does he want to tell me which way to drive for?" demanded the
outraged charioteer.

"He didn't mean to offend you--di