The Little Colonel, clutching frantically at the seat in front of her, screamed at the horse to stop.

She had been used to driving ever since she was big enough to grasp the reins, and she felt that if she could only reach the dragging lines, she could control the horse.

But that was impossible.

All she could do was to cling to the seat as the carriage whirled dizzily around corners, and wonder how many more frightful turns it would make before she should be thrown out.
The white houses on either side seemed racing past them.

Nurses ran, screaming, to the pavements, dragging the baby-carriages out of the way.
Dogs barked and teams were jerked hastily aside.