Yes! Not two hundred yards further on she spied an ice-cream shop in
Fleet Road, and Ellis learnt that she adored ice-cream. The mare waited
patiently outside in the thronged street.

After that the pilgrimage to Sneyd was punctuated with ice-creams. At
the Stag at Sneyd (where, among ninety-and-nine dogcarts, Ellis's
dogcart was the brightest green of them all) Ada had another lemonade,
and Ellis had something else. They saw the Park, and Ada giggled
charmingly her appreciation of its beauty. The conversation throughout
consisted chiefly of Ada's teeth. Ellis said he would return by a
different route, and he managed to get lost. How anyone driving to
Hanbridge from Sneyd could arrive at the mining village of Silverton is
a mystery. But Ellis arrived there, and he ultimately came out at
Hillport, the aristocratic suburb of Bursley, where he had always lived
till the last year. He feared recognition there, and his fear was
justified. Some silly ass, a schoolmate, cried, 'Go it!' as the machine
bowled along, and the mischief was that the mare, startled, went it. She
went it down the curving hill, and the vehicle after her, like a kettle
tied to a dog's tail.

Ellis winked stoutly at Ada when they reached the bottom, and gave the
mare a piece of his mind, to which she objected. As they crossed the
railway-bridge a goods-train ran underneath and puffed smoke into the
mare's eyes. She set her ears back.

'Would you!' cried Ellis authoritatively, and touched her with the whip
(he had forgotten the handbook).

He scarcely touched her, but you never know where you are with any