"
"Of _what?_ What did you say?" inquired my governess.
"Of driving, ma'am. Daisy is an excellent whip, for her years
and strength."
Miss Pinshon turned to Preston's mother. My aunt confirmed and
enlarged the statement, again throwing the blame on my father
and mother. For herself, she always thought it very dangerous
for a little girl like me to go about the country in a pony-
chaise all alone. Miss Pinshon's eyes could not be said to
express anything, but to my fancy they concealed a good deal.
She remarked that the roads were easy.
"Oh, it was not here," said my aunt; "it was at the North,
where the roads are not like our pine forests. However, the
roads were not dangerous there, that I know of; not for
anybody but a child. But horses and carriages are always
dangerous."
Miss Pinshon next applied herself to me. What did I know?
"beside this whip accomplishment," as she said. I was tongue-
tied. It did not seem to me that I knew anything. At last I
said so. Preston exclaimed. I looked at him to beg him to be
still; and I remember how he smiled at me.
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