Alex stood fumbling with the button of his great coat, looking much annoyed, and saying nothing; Roger called out to him that they could not wait all day, and he exerted himself to take Beatrice by the arm, and say, “Bee, I wish you would not, I am sure there will be a blow up about it at home.”

“O, you think nobody can or may drive me but yourself, Master Alex,” said Beatrice, laughing.  “No, no, I know very well that nobody will care when it is done, and there are no commands one way or the other.  I love my own neck, I assure you, Alex, and will not get that into a scrape.  Come, if that will put you into a better humour, I’ll dance with you first to-night.”  Alex turned away, muttering, “I don’t like it—­I’d go myself, but—­Well, I shall speak to Fred.”

Beatrice smiled with triumph at the jealousy which she thought she had excited, and watched to see the effect of the remonstrance.

“You are sure now,” said he, “that you can drive safely?  Remember it would be a tolerable piece of work if you were to damage that little Bee.”

This eloquent expostulation might have had some weight, if it had come from any one else; but Fred was too much annoyed at the superiority of his rival to listen with any patience, and he replied rather sullenly, that he could take as good care of her as Alex himself, and he only wished that their own horses were come from Rocksand.

“Well, I have no more to say,” said Alex, “only please to mind this, Langford junior, you may do just as you please with our horse, drive him to Jericho for what I care.  It was for your own sake and Beatrice’s that I spoke.”

“Much obliged, Langford senior,” replied Fred, making himself as tall as he could, and turning round to Carey with a very different tone, “Now, Carey, we won’t stop you any longer, if you’ll only just be so good as to tell your man to get out the gig.”

Carey did so, and Beatrice and Frederick were left alone, but not long, for Uncle Roger presently came into the yard with Willy and Arthur running after him.  To take possession of his horse and carriage, in his very sight, without permission, was quite impossible, and, besides, Beatrice knew full well that her dexterity could obtain a sanction from him which might be made to parry all blame.  So tripping up to him, she explained in a droll manner the distress in which the charade actors stood, and how the boys had said that they might have Dumple to drive to Allonfield.  Good natured Uncle Roger, who did not see why Fred should not drive as well as Alex or any of his other boys, knew little or nothing of his sister-in-law’s fears, and would, perhaps, have taken Fred’s side of the question if he had, did exactly as she intended, declared them perfectly welcome to the use of Dumple, and sent Willy into the house for the driving whip.  Thus authorized, Beatrice did not fear even her father, who was not likely to allow in words what a nonentity the authority of Uncle Roger might really be esteemed.