'Like a ploughboy, I was going to say,' said Mrs Askerton.

'I declare I think you have a spite against him, because he said you
were like some Miss Vigo,' replied Clara, sharply. Mrs Askerton was on
that occasion silenced, and she said nothing more about Mr Belton till
after Clara had returned from Perivale.

The journey itself from Belton to Perivale was always a nuisance, and
was more so now than usual, as it was made in the disagreeable month of
November. There was kept at the little inn at Redicote an old fly-so
called which habitually made the journey to the Taunton
railway-station, under the conduct of an old grey horse and an older
and greyer driver, whenever any of the old ladies of the neighbourhood
were minded to leave their homes. This vehicle usually travelled at the
rate of five miles an hour; but the old grey driver was never content
to have time allowed to him for the transit calculated upon such a rate
of speed. Accidents might happen, and why should he be made, as he
would plaintively ask, to drive the poor beast out of its skin? He was
consequently always at Belton a full hour before the time, and though
Clara was well aware of all this, she could not help herself. Her
father was fussy and impatient, the man was fussy and impatient; and
there was nothing for her but to go. On the present occasion she was
taken off in this way the full sixty minutes too soon, and after four
dreary hours spent upon the road, found herself landed at the Taunton
station, with a terrible gulf of time to be passed before she could
again proceed on her journey.

One little accident had occurred to her. The old horse, while trotting
leisurely along the level high road, had contrived to tumble down.
Clara did not think very much of this, as the same thing had happened