Hold him between your knees.

Are you ready, Mr.Siward ?" So he climbed in; the groom hoisted the dog to the rumble and sprang up behind; the horse danced and misbehaved, making a spectacle of himself and an agreeable picture of his driver; then the pretty little phaeton swung northward out of the gravel drive and went whirling along a road all misty with puffs of yellow dust which the afternoon sun turned to floating golden powder.
"Did you send my telegram, Flynn ?" she asked without turning her head.
"I did, Miss." It being the most important telegram she had ever sent in all her life, Miss Landis became preoccupied,--quite oblivious to extraneous details, including Siward, until the horse began acting badly again.

Her slightly disdainful and perfect control of the reins interested the young man.

He might have said something civil and conventional about that, but did not make the effort to invade a reserve which appeared to embarrass nobody.
A stacatto note from the dog, prolonged infinitely in hysterical crescendo, demanded comment from somebody.
"What is the matter with him, Flynn ?" she asked.
Siward said: "You should let him run, Miss Landis." She nodded, smiling, inattentive, absorbed in her own affairs, still theorising concerning her telegram.

She drove on for a while, and might have forgotten the dog entirely had he not once more lifted his voice in melancholy.
"You say he ought to run for a mile or two?
Do you think he'll bolt, Mr.
Siward ?" "Is he a new dog ?" "Yes, fresh from the kennels; supposed to be house-and wagon-broken, steady to shot and wing--" She shrugged her pretty shoulders.