“No, sir, a light chariot it is; but he likes to go fast.”
“And so do I—when I can,” muttered Forester, the last words being an addition almost independent of him. “Could n't you tell him that there's a gentleman here very much pressed to push on, and would take it as a great favor if he'd divide the team?”
“To be sure, sir, I'll go and speak to him,” said the waiter, as he hurried away on the errand.
“I see how it is, sir,” said Linwood, who, with true servant dexterity, thought to turn his master's anger into any other channel than towards himself, “they wants to get you to stop the night here.”
“Confound this trickery! I'll pay what they please for the horses, only let us have them.—Well, waiter, what does he say?”
“He says, sir,” said the waiter, endeavoring to suppress a laugh, “if you 'll come in and join him at supper, you shall have whatever you like.”
“Join him at supper! No, no; I'm hurried, I'm anxious to get forward, and not the least hungry besides.”
“Hadn't you better speak a word to him, anyhow?” said the waiter, half opening the parlor door. And Forester, accepting the suggestion, entered.
