the steam-lock, and the forced draught were all controlled from the right rear seat.
"Me? Why? There’s a whole switchboard full o’ nickel-plated muckin’s which I haven’t begun to play with yet. The starboard side’s crawlin’ with ’em."
"Change, or I’ll kill you!" said Hinchcliffe, and he looked like it.
"That’s the tiffy all over. When anything goes wrong, blame it on the lower deck. Navigate by your automatic self, then! I won’t help you any more."
We navigated for a mile in dead silence.
"Talkin’ o’ wakes——" said Pyecroft suddenly.
"We weren’t," Hinchcliffe grunted.
"There’s some wakes would break a snake’s back; but this of yours, so to speak, would fair turn a tapeworm giddy. That’s all I wish to observe, Hinch . . . . Cart at anchor on the port bow. It’s Agg!"
Far up the shaded road into secluded Bromlingleigh we saw the carrier’s cart at rest before the post-office.
"He’s bung in the fairway. How’m I to get past?" said Hinchcliffe. "There’s no room. Here, Pye, come and relieve the wheel!"
"Nay, nay, Pauline. You’ve made your own bed. You’ve as good as left your happy home an’ family cart to steal it. Now you lie on it."
"Ring your bell," I suggested.
"Glory!" said Pyecroft, falling forward into the nape of Hinchcliffe’s neck as the car stopped dead.
