The 'buses were objects of curiosity for our heroes.
The drivers were ideal in their own way, and of a class not to be met with anywhere out of London.
The boys criticised them unmercifully.
"Oh, Duncan, did ever you see such faces, or such slow-looking men!"
"Faces just like hams, Conal--and, why, they seem to be wearing about twenty coats! So solemn too--I wonder if ever those fellows smiled except over a pint of beer!"
"And look at those huge wooden umbrellas!"
"Yes, that is for fear a drop of rain should fall upon John Guttle, and he should catch cold."
"Shouldn't I like to see one of these John Guttles trudging over a moor!"
"He wouldn't trudge far, Conal; he would tumble down and gasp like an over-fed ox."
"I say, Duncan, I haven't seen anybody with a plaid yet."