"Which I says--Lord love me!"
I plunged the iron back into the fire, and, turning my head,
espied a figure standing in the doorway; and, though the leather
hat and short, round jacket had been superseded by a smart
groom's livery, I recognized the Postilion.
"So 'elp me, Bob, if this ain't a piece o' luck!" he exclaimed,
and, with the words, he removed his hat and fell to combing his
short, thick hair with the handle of his whip.
"I'm glad you think so," said I.
"You can drownd me if it ain't!" said he.
"And, pray, how is the gentleman who--happened to fall and hurt
himself, if you remember--in the storm?"
"'Appened to fall an' 'urt 'isself?" repeated the Postilion,
winking knowingly, "'urt 'isself,' says you 'Walker!' says I,
'Walker!'" with which he laid his forefinger against the side of
his nose and winked again.
"What might you be pleased to mean?"
"I means as a gent 'appenin' to fall in the dark may p'r'aps cut
'is 'ead open--but 'e don't give 'isself two black eyes, a bloody
nose, a split lip, an' three broken ribs, all at once--it ain't
nat'ral, w'ich if you says contrairy, I remarks--'Walker!' Lord!"
continued the Postilion, seeing I did not speak, "Lord! it must
'a' been a pretty warm go while it lasted--you put 'im to sleep
sound enough; it took me over a hour to Tonbridge, an' 'e never
moved till 'e'd been put to bed at 'The Chequers' an' a doctor
sent for. Ah! an' a nice time I 'ad of it, what wi' chamber-maids
a-runnin' up an' down stairs to see the 'poor gentleman,' an'
everybody a-starin' at me, an' a-shakin' their 'eads, an' all
a-axin' questions, one atop o' the other, till the doctor come.
"Ow did this 'appen, me man?' says 'e. 'A haccident!' says I.
'A haccident?' says the doctor, wi' a look in 'is eye as I didn't
just like. 'Ah!' says I, 'fell on 'is 'ead--out o' the chaise,'
says I, 'struck a stone, or summ'at,' says I. 'Did 'e fall of
'is own accord?' says the doctor. 'Ah, for sure!' says I.
'Humph!' says the doctor, 'what wi' 'is eyes, an' 'is nose, an'
'is lip, looks to me as if some one 'ad 'elped 'im.' 'Then you
must be a dam' fool!' says a voice, an' there's my gentleman
--Number One, you know, a-sittin' up in bed an' doin' 'is 'ardest
to frown. 'Sir?' says the doctor. 'Sir! to you,' says my
gentleman, 'this honest fellow tells the truth. I did fall out
o' the accursed chaise--an' be damned to you!' says 'e. 'Don't
excite yourself,' says the doctor; 'in your present condition it
would be dangerous.' 'Then be so good as to go to the devil!'
says my gentleman. 'I will!' says the doctor, an' off 'e goes.
'Hi, there, you,' says my gentleman, callin' to me as soon as we
were alone, 'this accursed business 'as played the devil with me,
an' I need a servant. 'Ow much do you want to stay wi' me?'
'Twenty-five shillin' a week,' says I, doin' myself proud while I
'ad the chance. 'I'll give ye thirty,' says 'e; 'wot's ye name?'
'Jacob Trimble, sir,' says I. 'An' a most accursed name it is!
--I'll call you Parks,' says 'e, 'an' when I ring let no one answer
but yourself. You can go, Parks--an', Parks--get me another
doctor.' Well," pursued the Postilion, seating himself near by,
"we'd been there a couple o' weeks, an' though 'e was better, an'
'is face near well again, 'e still kept to 'is room, when, one
day, a smart phaeton an' blood 'osses drives up, an' out steps a
fine gentleman--one o' them pale, sleepy sort. I was a-standin'
in the yard, brushin' my master's coat--a bottle-green wi' silver
buttons, each button 'avin' what they calls a monneygram stamped
onto it. 'Ha, me man!' says the sleepy gent, steppin' up to me,
'a fine coat--doocid fashionable cut, curse me!--your master's?'
'Yes, sir,' says I, brushin' away. 'Silver buttons too!' says
the gent, 'let me see--ah yes!--a V, yes, to be sure--'ave the
goodness to step to your master an' say as a gentleman begs to
see 'im.' 'Can't be done, sir,' says I; 'me master ain't seein'
nobody, bein' in indifferent 'ealth.' 'Nonsense!' says the
gentleman, yawnin' an' slippin' a guinea into me 'and. 'Just
run, like a good feller, an' tell 'im as I bear a message from
George!' 'From 'oo?' says I. 'From George,' says the gent,
smilin' an' yawnin'--'just say from George.' So, to come to the
end of it, up I goes, an' finds me master walkin' up an' down an'
aswearin' to 'isself as usual. 'A gentleman to see you, sir,'
says I. 'Why, devil burn your miserable carcass!' say 'e,
'didn't I tell you as I'd see nobody?' 'Ay, but this 'ere gent's
a-sayin' 'e 'as a message from George, sir.' My master raised
both clenched fists above 'is 'ead an' swore--ah! better than I'd
heard for many a long day. 'Ows'ever, downstairs 'e goes,
cursin' on every stair. In a time 'e comes back. 'Parks,' says
'e, 'do you remember that--that place where we got lost--in the
storm, Parks?' 'Ah, sir,' says I. 'Well, go there at once,'
says 'e,' an','--well--'e give me certain orders--jumps into the
phaeton wi' the sleepy gentleman, an' they drive off together--an'
accordin' to orders--'ere I am."