“No doubt you noticed her—her condition.”
“No. You mean—”
The fat gentleman whispered some words.
Mrs. Warden started: “By the man!—the man of the house?”
“Yes, madam, I am sorry to have to tell you so; but you can understand that these people—” and he whispered again.
This was too much for Mrs. Warden. She turned almost dizzy, and accepted the gentleman’s arm. They now walked rapidly towards the carriage, which was standing a little farther off than the spot at which she had left it.
For the immovable one had achieved a feat which even the humorist had acknowledged with an elaborate oath.
After sitting for some time, stiff as a poker, he had backed his sleek horses, step by step, until they reached a spot where the street widened a little, though the difference was imperceptible to any other eyes than those of an accomplished coachman.
A whole pack of ragged children swarmed about the carriage, and did all they could to upset the composure of the sleek steeds. But the spirit of the immovable one was in them.
After having measured with a glance of perfect composure the distance between two flights of steps, one on each side of the street, he made the sleek pair turn, slowly and step by step, so short and sharp that it seemed as though the elegant carriage must be crushed to fragments, but so accurately that there was not an inch too much or too little on either side.