Horrified, we looked at one another by the light of the lamp. Until this minute we had taken no note of time. Eleven o'clock! How should we get home to Norton Bury that night?
For, now the excitement was over, I turned sick and faint; my limbs almost sank under me.
"What must we do, John?"
"Do! oh! 'tis quite easy. You cannot walk—you shall not walk—we must hire a gig and drive home. I have enough money—all my month's wages—see!" He felt in his pockets one after the other; his countenance grew blank. "Why! where is my money gone to?"
Where, indeed! But that it was gone, and irretrievably—most likely stolen when we were so wedged in the crowd—there could be no manner of doubt. And I had not a groat. I had little use for money, and rarely carried any.
"Would not somebody trust us?" suggested I.
"I never asked anybody for credit in my life—and for a horse and gig—they'd laugh at me. Still—yes—stay here a minute, and I'll try."
He came back, though not immediately, and took my arm with a reckless laugh.
"It's of no use, Phineas—I'm not so respectable as I thought. What's to be done?"
Ay! what indeed! Here we were, two friendless youths, with not a penny in our pockets, and ten miles away from home. How to get there, and at midnight too, was a very serious question. We consulted a minute, and then John said firmly: