“But I’m not the driver,” said the young man.[Pg 172]
“Then kindly call the driver!” said she.
Opening the door of the cab, she managed, with considerable effort, to shove one of her bags inside. The young man was there to help her with the other.
“The driver’s in the shop,” he explained, “getting something taken out of his eye; but—”
“Be good enough to tell him I am waiting,” said she.
“He’ll be along in a minute, and then he can take us both to—”
“Pardon me!” said the portly lady, in a perfectly awful voice.
The young man seemed a little taken aback. She was now settled inside the cab, and he was standing outside in the rain. It was very dark, and they could not see each other; but so expressive was her voice that he fancied he knew how she looked.
“I shall instruct the driver to return here for you, if you wish,” said she.
“But, you see,” said the young man, quite good-humoredly, “I had engaged this cab. It’s late, and the weather’s bad, and I’m going in your direction. We can—”