“A gig, then, a gig would do,” said Drusilla, eagerly.
“We haven’t got such a thing, Miss.”
“Good heavens, sir, I must have some conveyance to take me to Old Lyon Hall this afternoon. I do not care what it costs!” said Drusilla, desperately.
“Oh, you’ll be on your way to the wedding there, Miss?”
“Yes, yes, I am going there. Can you get me a conveyance of some sort from some one in the neighborhood? I will pay well for the use of any sort of a carriage to take me to the old hall. And I will pay you well for your trouble in getting it for me. Answer, quickly—can you?”
“Dear me, how anxious young folks is for weddings, to be sure!—Stay, let’s see—Yes! There’s old Mr. Simpkins—he would hire his carryall, I know, and glad to do it.”
“Get it, then! I will pay whatever he asks. How long will it take you to get it?” asked Drusilla, breathlessly.
“Why, you see,” said the landlord, very leisurely, “Old man Simpkins he lives about a mile from here; and if I put a boy on horseback and send him right off we might get the carryall here at the door inside of an hour.”
“Do it then at once; pray hurry! I will pay you in proportion to the haste that you make.”
The leisurely landlord sauntered out of the parlor to give his directions.