An Interview with Barney Sturt.
“Couldn’t you make it a four-wheeler, Sam,” said Mrs Jenkles, one evening, “and take me up and bring us all back together?”
“Now, lookye here, old lady,” said Sam, “I don’t want to be hard, nor I don’t want to be soft, but what I says is this here—Where’s it going to end?”
“What do you mean, Sam?” exclaimed Mrs Jenkles.
“What I says, my dear—Where’s it going to end? You’ve got over me about the money, and you’ve got over me about the lodgings. You’re allus going to Mrs Lane to tea, as I knows they don’t find; and now you wants me to give up my ’ansom, borrer a four-wheeler, and lose ’bout a pound as I should make in fares; and what I says is—Where’s it going to end?”
“Sam, Sam, Sam,” said Mrs Jenkles, “when did you ever go out with your cab for about a couple of hours and make a pound?”
Sam stood rubbing his nose, and there was a droll twinkle in his eye as he replied—
“Well, I might make a pound, you know.”
“Now don’t talk stuff, Sam, but go to the yard and change your cab, take me up there, and bring us all back comfortable.”
“You’re argoing it, you are, missus,” said Sam. “That’s the way—order your kerridge. ‘Sam,’ says you, ‘the kerridge at six.’ ‘Yes, mum,’ says I. ‘Oppery or dinner party?’ ‘Only to make a hevening call, Sam,’ says you. ‘Werry good, mum,’ says I.”