“I think I would rather stay here, nurse,” said Drusilla, languidly.
“No, no, no,” objected mammy, authoritatively, “not at all. I can’t allow it. The coach will be here for a good half an hour. You get out, and come in the house, and walk about a little to stretch your limbs; and take off your bonnet to ease your head, and have your tea comfortable. It will freshen you up a heap for the rest of the journey.
“And the goodness gracious alive knows as you need freshening up, and you won’t get another chance till the stage stops at Frostville to breakfast. And that will be a good twelve hour long. Think of that, now, and do as I ’vises of you.”
Before mammy was half through her exordium, Drusilla, convinced by her eloquence, had risen to her feet, and was drawing her cloak around her.
She saw through the darkness her fellow-travellers from the top get off and go into the bar-room of the neat and comfortable inn. And she gave her hand to the guard, who kindly came around to help her to alight.
“There, Miss, there is the private door—a nice place, Miss, with a nice landlady and a good table; shall I take you in, Miss?” he inquired, hoisting a large umbrella, for it was now beginning to rain.
“Thanks, yes,” returned Drusilla, “the ground seems slippery.”
“This way, if you please, Miss.”
“Bad manners to your imperence, this lady is a married lady, and not a young Miss,” said mammy, indignantly.
“Beg pardon; but I thought the madam looked young,” said the guard, laughing, yet not disrespectfully.