“How much is your fare?” inquired Hay.
The man stopped to recover breath with another devout inhalation of enjoyment, and then answered:
“Ten shillings, sir.”
Ran took out his purse and gave the man half a sovereign and half a crown.
“Thank you, sir,” said the driver, touching his hat, not for the fare, but for the “tip.”
Then he took the blankets off his horses, folded and put them under his box and mounted to his seat.
“You had better drive as fast as you can, not only for the sake of warming the blood of the horses, but for that of cooling the temper of the gentleman who is waiting for you with his party at the station.”
“Another fare to-night, sir?”
“Yes, so I hear from the people you have just brought.”
“Then the master won’t only have to find fresh horses, but a fresh driver, sir; for I’m just dead beat. Any more commands, sir?”