'Take it away,' she said to the driver. 'I won't endanger my life with such an animal--brown horses are always wild, and so are black ones.'
It was vain for me to argue; she just turned away and walked upstairs again, I following to take off her bonnet and cloak, and supply her again with her knitting. So there was an end of the carriage exercise, it seemed.
But there's a curious boring pertinacity in the creature, for after we had sat in silence for about ten minutes she remarked:--
'Cecilia, the doctor _said_ I was to have carriage exercise--Don't you think I could get a donkey-chair?'
'No,' I replied quite curtly. 'Donkey-chairs do not grow on Dartmoor.'
She never saw that I was provoked, and perhaps it was just as well.
'No,' she said after a pause for reflection. 'No, I dare say they do not, but don't you think if you walked to Stoke Babbage you might be able to get one for me?'
'I might be able to get a pony chaise and a quiet pony,' I answered, scenting the possibility of a five-mile walk that would give me an hour or two of peace.
'Well, will you go and try if you can get one?' she asked.
'If you don't mind being left alone for a few hours, I'll do what I can,' I said. She was beginning to object, when Virginia appeared, leading in her mother.
'Here's my mother come to keep you company, Mrs. MacGill,' she explained. 'She wishes to hear all about your chill, from the first shiver right on to the last cough.' She placed Mrs. Pomeroy in an armchair, and fairly drove me out of the room before her, pushing me with both hands.
'Come! Run! Fly! Escape!' she cried. 'You are as white as butter with waiting on that woman's fads. I won't let you come in again under three hours. My mother's symptoms are good to last for two and a half hours, and then Mrs. MacGill can fill up the rest of the time with hers.'
Gaiety like Virginia's is infectious. I ran, yes, really ran downstairs along with her, quite forgetting my headache and weariness. I almost turned traitor to Mrs. MacGill, and was ready to laugh at her with this girl.
'She wants a pony chaise, and I'm to go down to Stoke Babbage to choose it,' I said.
'Why, that's five miles away, isn't it?' she asked. 'You're not half equal to a walk like that.'