There was a commotion in the yard, and a man came running out of the stables to know if he meant up or down.
“Up, I tell you! Up! Ain’t it English? Up!”
“Up?” said I, astonished. “To London! Are we going back?”
“Miss Summerson,” he answered, “back. Straight back as a die. You know me. Don’t be afraid. I’ll follow the other, by G——”
“The other?” I repeated. “Who?”
“You called her Jenny, didn’t you? I’ll follow her. Bring those two pair out here for a crown a man. Wake up, some of you!”
“You will not desert this lady we are in search of; you will not abandon her on such a night and in such a state of mind as I know her to be in!” said I, in an agony, and grasping his hand.
“You are right, my dear, I won’t. But I’ll follow the other. Look alive here with them horses. Send a man for’ard in the saddle to the next stage, and let him send another for’ard again, and order four on, up, right through. My darling, don’t you be afraid!”
These orders and the way in which he ran about the yard urging them caused a general excitement that was scarcely less bewildering to me than the sudden change. But in the height of the confusion, a mounted man galloped away to order the relays, and our horses were put to with great speed.
“My dear,” said Mr. Bucket, jumping to his seat and looking in again, “—you’ll excuse me if I’m too familiar—don’t you fret and worry yourself no more than you can help. I say nothing else at present; but you know me, my dear; now, don’t you?”