Clifford did not reply. He began doing things with his engine, running her fast and slow as if to get some sort of tune out of her. The wood reechoed with weird noises. Then he put her in gear with a jerk, having jerked off his brake.

“You’ll rip her inside out,” murmured the keeper.

The chair charged in a sick lurch sideways at the ditch.

“Clifford!” cried Connie, rushing forward.

But the keeper had got the chair by the rail. Clifford, however, putting on all his pressure, managed to steer into the riding, and with a strange noise the chair was fighting the hill. Mellors pushed steadily behind, and up she went, as if to retrieve herself.

“You see she’s doing it!” said Clifford victorious, glancing over his shoulder. There he saw the keeper’s face.

“Are you pushing her?”