The Amateur Gentleman

"So should I," nodded Mottle-face--"ah, that I should."

"You--you told me," spluttered the fussy gentleman, in sudden wrath,

"that you were coming to my valise."

"An' so ve have," nodded Mottle-face, triumphantly. "Ve're at it now;

ve've been a-coming to that theer blessed walise ever since you

come aboard."

"Well, and what's to be done about it?" snapped the fussy gentleman.

"Vell," said Mottle-face, with another ponderous wink at Barnabas,

"if it troubles you much more, sir, if I vos you I should get a

werry strong rope, and a werry large stone, and tie 'em together

werry tight, an' drop that theer blessed walise into the river, and

get rid of it that way."

Hereupon the fussy gentleman uttered an inarticulate exclamation, and,

throwing himself back in his seat, tugged his hat over his eyes, and

was heard no more.

But Mottle-face, touching up the near leader with deft and delicate

play of wrist, or flicking the off wheeler, ever and anon gave vent

to sounds which, though somewhat muffled, on account of coat-collar

and shawl, were uncommonly like a chuckle. Yet if this were so or no,

Barnabas did not trouble to ascertain, for he was already in that

dreamy state 'twixt sleeping and waking, drowsily conscious of being

borne on through the summer night, past lonely cottage and farmhouse,

past fragrant ricks and barns, past wayside pools on whose still

waters stars seemed to float--on and ever on, rumbling over bridges,

clattering through sleeping hamlets and villages, up hill and down

hill, on and ever on toward London and the wonders thereof. But,

little by little, the chink and jingle of the harness, the rumble of

the wheels, the rhythmic beat of the sixteen hoofs, all became

merged into a drone that gradually softened to a drowsy murmur, and

Barnabas fell into a doze; yet only to be awakened, as it seemed to

him, a moment later by lights and voices, and to find that they were

changing horses once more. Whereupon Mottle-face, leaning over,

winked his owl-like eye, and spoke in a hoarse, penetrating whisper: "Ten mile, sir, an' not a vord out o' old Walise so far!" saying

which he jerked his head towards the huddled form of the fussy

gentleman, winked again, and turned away to curse the hurrying

ostlers, albeit in a tone good-natured and jovial.

And so, betimes, off they went again, down hill and up, by rolling

meadow and winding stream, 'neath the leafy arches of motionless

trees, through a night profoundly still save for the noise of their

own going, the crow of a cock, or the bark of a dog from some

farmyard. The moon sank and was gone, but on went the London Mail

swirling through eddying mist that lay in every hollow like ghostly

pools. Gradually the stars paled to the dawn, for low down in the

east was a gray streak that grew ever broader, that changed to a

faint pink, deepening to rose, to crimson, to gold--an ever

brightening glory, till at last up rose the sun, at whose advent the

mists rolled away and vanished, and lo! day was born.