out to be. I was just going to say something to try and smooth things over when that stupid little Miss Proudfoot went and said the very worst thing she possibly could have said. "Well, who won?" she asked. It's always such a mistake to ask who won a game when you know one side must have lost, and that nobody likes losing. But Miss Proudfoot never has tact. Well, the consequences were fatal, and there was a row. Mrs. Hicks finally accused Mrs. Binks of cheating, and Mrs. Binks called Mrs. Hicks a——'
'Dear Berengaria,' I interrupted breathlessly, as the pony swerved and almost landed us over the edge of the bank, 'I really do think the pony would be more comfortable if you took the reins from underneath his tail.'
Berengaria leaned forward and viciously drew the reins free. The pony gave a playful kick, and began to canter.
'You never need be nervous with me driving,' said Berengaria, obviously annoyed at being interrupted in the midst of the interesting story of Mrs. Hicks and Mrs. Binks. 'I don't pretend to be able to do many things, but I can drive.'
I gasped, and clung on tighter. Why is it that we always imagine we do best the very thing that we do worst? Nothing about Berengaria surely could be worse than her driving, yet that was the very thing I found out afterwards that she particularly prided herself upon. I guess it's a way we poor deluded mortals have. We all of us have our little
