“Lor’! why she hasn’t said a single word!”
“No; but she has told you so in the only way a sleeper could,—by her silence. If she had been awake, she would have spoken; wouldn’t she?”
“Sure enough; I never thought of that before. See what it is to have a head-piece. But is you sartain sure she is asleep?”
“Certain sure,” answered Dick, bending forward, and listening to the soft, low, regular breathing of his invisible fellow-passenger.
“Well, thank Goodness for that!” said mammy, as she settled herself to rest.
The stage-coach had been thundering on its way at a tremendous rate for several miles, but now it had to cross a broad but shallow stream and to go slowly.
Suddenly, Dick yawned, and then, addressing his fat neighbor, inquired:
“Does your ladyship object to smoking?”
“Yes, sir,” replied mammy, sharply; “my ladyship do very much so, indeed; and so do my missus,—which, sleeping or ’waking, I believe it would make her sick.”
“Oh, your missus! True? Well, let’s see what sort of weather it is outside—though, in point of fact, I had rather bear the rain than forbear my cigar,” said Dick, as he opened the window and looked forth into the blackness of the night.