136 OCCASIONAL HAPPY THOUGHTS. 



minders of guilty conscience. He is a sort of Irving, in The 

 Bells. His pace is increasing. Gloppin says nothing. 



My Aunt is pale. 



" I think," she says, with a spasmodic effort at self-con- 

 trol, "if you'll stop— I'll— get out— and walk home — I'd 

 rather." 



" It's all right," I say, abruptly. But I return to the grasp 

 of iron, check him in his stride, and feel that this sort of 

 thing can't go on long. 



Gloppin is silent. 



Trott's is in view. I see it. So does the horse. " Now 

 then," he seems to say, "let's see who'll get there first. 

 Yoicks for Trott's ! Full inside ! All right ! Off ! ! " 



For a moment we seem to be nothing behind him ; the 

 air has blown my Aunt's bonnet back ; even Gloppin, taken 

 by surprise by the suddenness of the start, has just pre- 

 vented himself from tumbling backwards into the well, by 

 holding on to the seat in front, and I summon all my forces 

 to get the jubilant animal to finish steadily. 



Happy Thought. — Just shaved the gate-post by an inch. 

 Try to look as if this were first-rate driving on my part. 



I pull him up at Trott's stable yard. It has been warm 

 v,'ork, but we enter quietly. If ever anybody was glad to 

 descend from the seat of a box-passenger, that person is my 

 Aunt. 



Strangely enough, she now praises the horse. So does 

 Gloppin. 



I remark (to Trott) that the horse shies, that he seems 



