'So I had,' declared Miss Jenny with unblushing readiness. 'I never thought of it until, riding this way again, the whim reminded me. I am ready to be shown at once, if'—severely—'you are not too busy!'
Jim stepped diffidently forward, gnawing at his moustache, and proffered his aid as formerly. But she cut him short.
'No, thank you; I'm not going to get off; I can't stay a moment longer than just to see this wonderful whim—then I'm off.'
This was delicious. If the whim were admitted to be out of gear she would simply canter away without a thank-you; therefore Jim would admit nothing. In silence he led the way to the whim, Miss Jenny riding after him at a walk. Under the black ugly wooden framework, which was high enough for Miss Jenny to continue sitting upright in her saddle, they both stopped; and Jim began to explain.
He began with the great wooden drum above their heads, and step by step expounded the working of the whim; but when he led the lady's hack into such a position that Miss
