dismally after she had smiled and nodded them out of sight.

"Don't go over any bridges or railroad crossings or by any saw-mills,"
said the old lady, as if the town could be suddenly remodelled to suit
her taste.

"Yes'm," returned Toady, with a crack which would have done honor to a
French postilion.

It was a fine day, and the young people would have enjoyed the ride in
spite of the breakers ahead, if Aunt Kipp hadn't entertained the
girl with a glowing account of the splendors of her own wedding, and
aggravated the boy by frequent pokes and directions in the art of
driving, of which she was of course, profoundly ignorant. Polly
couldn't restrain a tear or two, in thinking of her own poor little
prospects, and Toady was goaded to desperation.

"I'll give her a regular shaking up; it'll make her hold her tongue
and do her good," he said to himself, as a stony hill sloped
temptingly before him.

A sly chuck, and some mysterious manoeuvre with the reins, and Bob
started off at a brisk trot, as if he objected to the old lady as much
as her mischievous little nephew.

"Hold him in! Keep a taut rein! Lord 'a mercy, he's running away!"
shrieked Aunt Kipp, or tried to shriek, for the bouncing and bumping
jerked the words out of her mouth with ludicrous incoherency.

"I am holding him, but he _will_ go," said Toady, with a wicked