"I wonder whether I could drive the cab properly if I climbed up on the box," said Sylvia, thoughtfully.
"Oh no! For goodness' sake, don't do anything of the kind!" Arthur begged. "Let's get down while the beast is quiet. Come along. We shall never be able to explain why we're in this cab. It's like a dream."
Sylvia gave way so far as not to mount the box, but she declined to alight, and insisted they ought to stay where they were and rest as long as they could; there were still a number of dark hours before them.
"But my dear girl, this beast of a horse may start off again," Arthur protested.
"Well, what if it does?" Sylvia said. "We can't be any more lost than we are now. I don't know in the least what part of London we've got to."
"I'm sure there's something the matter with this cab," Arthur woefully exclaimed.
"There is," she agreed. "You've just set fire to it with that match."
"I'm so nervous," said Arthur. "I don't know what I'm doing. Phew! what a stink of burnt hair. Do let's get out."
"Shut up," Sylvia commanded. "I'm going to try and have a sleep. Wake me up if the horse tries to walk into a shop or anything."
But this was more than Arthur could stand, and he shook her in desperation. "You sha'n't go to sleep. You don't seem to mind what happens to us."
"Not a bit," Sylvia agreed. Then suddenly she sang at the top of her voice, "for I'm off with the raggle-taggle gipsies--oh!"
The horse at once trotted forward, and Arthur was in despair.
"Oh, damn!" he moaned. "Now you've started that horrible brute off again. Whatever made me come away with you?"
"You can go home whenever you like," said Sylvia, coldly.
"What's the good of telling me that when we're tearing along in a cab without a driver?" Arthur bewailed.
"We're not tearing along," Sylvia contradicted. "And I'm driving. I expect the horse will go back to its stable if we don't interfere with him too much."
"Who wants to interfere with the brute? Oh, listen to that wheel. I'm sure it's coming off."
"Here's a cab shelter," Sylvia said, encouragingly. "I'm going to try and pull up."
Luckily the horse was ready enough to stop, and both of them got out. Sylvia walked without hesitation into the shelter, followed by Arthur with the bags. There were three or four cabmen inside, eating voluptuously in an atmosphere of tobacco smoke, steam, and burnt grease. She explained to them about the cab's running away, was much gratified by the attention her story secured, and learned that it was three o'clock and that she was in Somers Town.