The Splendid Fairing by Constance Holme — Read

Simon had been right in thinking that the tale of the car would be all over the town by the time he arrived. He came across it, indeed, almost the moment that he got in. The driver of the car had told a farmer or two in the innyard, and the farmer or two had chuckled with glee and gone out to spread it among the rest. Of course, they took good care that it lost nothing in the telling, and, moreover, the driver had given it a good shove-off at the start. He told them that Simon had shaken his fist and wept aloud, and that Sarah had fainted away and couldn't be brought round. A later account had it that the chase had lasted fast and furious for miles, ending with an accident in Witham streets. Simon encountered the tale in many lengths and shapes, and it was hard to say whether the flippant or sympathetic folk annoyed him most. He always started out by refusing to discuss the matter at all, and then wouldn't stop talking about it once he had begun.

"Ay, well, ye see, I thought it was a hearse," he always growled, when forced to admit that part of the tale, at least, was true. "Mebbe I was half asleep, or thinking o' summat else; or likely I'm just daft, like other folk not so far. " Here he usually threw a glance at the enquiring friend, who gave a loud guffaw and shifted from foot to foot. "Ay, a hearse -- yon's what I thought it was, wi' nid-noddin' plumes, and happen a corp in a coffin fleein' along inside. You've no call to make such a stir about it as I can see," he wound up helplessly, with a threatening scowl. "Boggles isn't out o' date yet by a parlish long while, and there's many a body still wick as can mind seeing Jamie Lowther's headless Coach and Four!"