Jennings, the coachman, said afterwards that it must have been the work of one of the mischievous lads whom he had driven with his whip from staring in at his stable door.

What happened was that the pony's bridle, which had been snipped with a knife, had come apart, fallen about her neck and then under her feet.

She was off like the wind.
As for poor Lady Anne, suddenly rendered helpless, she caught at the side of the little carriage, which was being dragged violently at the pony's heels.

She had need of all her spirit.

Fortunately, the road was a straight one, but there was not a soul in sight to help her, not a sower in the fields, not a ploughman, not even a boy herding cattle along the road.