“Here is long life and happiness to you, mum, and both on you,” said the driver, nodding in the most friendly way.
“Aforesaid,” exclaimed the conductor, “and a bit o’ chaff on’y meant as fun. Long life and a merry one to both on you. Shaver, same to you.”
I was the “Shaver,” and the healths being drunk in solemn silence, and I accommodated with a tumbler, and some water to my sherry, the driver mounted again, the conductor took out his key-bugle, the streets of pretty Richmond echoed to an old-fashioned air, and the four fresh but very dilapidated old screws that did the journey to Hampton Court and back to Richmond were shaken into a scrambling canter, so that in due time we reached the royal village, the chaff having been damped at Richmond with the ale, and ceasing afterwards to fly.
I’ve learned that a return omnibus left the “Toy” at seven o’clock, and then started for our peregrination of the palace and grounds. But somehow that pint or ale seemed to have completely changed poor Revitts. The late injury to his head had made him so weak there, that the ale acted upon him in the strangest manner. He was excited and irritable, and seemed to be brooding over the remarks he had heard upon the omnibus.
The gardens, of course, took our attention first, and there being few people about, and those of a holiday class, the gay costume of my companions ceased to excite notice, and I began to enjoy our trip. There were the great smooth gravel walks, the closely shaven lawns, the quaintly clipped shrubs, and old-fashioned flower beds to admire. The fountain in the centre made so much spray in the pleasant breeze that from one point of view there was a miniature rainbow, and when we walked down to the iron railings, and gazed at the long avenue of the Home Park, with its bright canal-like lake between, Mary was enraptured.
“Oh, do look, dear!” she exclaimed; “isn’t it ’evingly, William?”
“Yes,” he said stolidly, as he took hold of the railing with his white kid glove; “but what I say is this: Every man who enters into the state of wedlock ought fust to make sure as the woman he marries ain’t a big-a-mee.”
Here he unbuttoned his waistcoat, under the impression that it was his uniform coat, so as to get out his notebook, and then, awakening to his mistake, hastily buttoned it again.
“Haven’t got a pencil and a bit o’ paper, have you, Ant’ny?” he said.
“What are you talking about, William?” exclaimed Mary. “Don’t be so foolish. Now, take us and show us the oranges Master Antony,” she said.